


As Easy As Dreaming

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt always imagined that true love was messy and difficult, but his father told him that with the right person, love was easy</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Easy As Dreaming

After the incident in the fall, the rest of Kurt’s junior year in high school passed in a bit of a blur.

Burt Hummel and his attorney invoked the power of some law on Figgins and his failure to keep Kurt safe, which resulted in Kurt’s transfer to Dalton on McKinley’s dime. Westerville was really too far away for a daily commute, so Kurt stayed in the dorms along with some of the other out of town boys. He came home on the weekends to see his family and hang out with Mercedes.

Through Finn, he learned that Dave Karofsky had left, even after serving his suspension and coming back to school briefly. No one seemed to know what happened to Karofsky although everyone agreed that he hadn’t been re-expelled by the school board.

When he heard the news, Kurt sent one thought out into the universe regarding Dave Karofsky – _I wish you peace._

About three weeks after arriving at Dalton, he and Blaine started officially dating. He told Burt the news in a kind of nervous anticipation, both wanting his father to go all protective on him and dreading it.

What Burt said was actually surprising.

 _“Don’t have sex because you think you should, or you think everybody else is, or you feel pressured to have it. I’m not saying that you’ll wait until it’s the perfect moment, cause that will never happen. But wait until it feels right for you. Letting someone into your body or you into theirs isn’t something you can ever take back once you do it. There’s a reason why loss of virginity has always been a big deal.”_

 _Burt sits back with a far away look in his eyes, “But when the person is right, there’s no awkwardness or hesitation. Getting swept away by passion can be scary and you feel like you’re going to fall apart completely, but you find that being with that person is as easy as dreaming.”_

Kurt took his father’s advice with a grain of salt, but he wondered if Burt had revealed how it had been with Kate, his mother, or with Carole. He wished he could remember more of his mother than vague images and unrelated sensations.

He thought that Burt was being needlessly paranoid until the first time he and Blaine give each other mutual hand jobs. Seeing Blaine’s orgasm face and knowing that Blaine had seen his made him uncomfortable, feeling like he was too vulnerable at that moment. He wrote it off as a product of his general inability to trust people, but he and Blaine never seemed to take things further. Kurt felt no overwhelming urge to ‘go all the way’ and consoled himself with internet searches that told him that penetrative sex wasn’t necessary for a happy and fulfilled sex life. However, the idea of blowjobs seemed too intimate as well and Kurt wondered if there was something seriously wrong with him.

Being with Blaine was pleasant, satisfying, and seemed to be remarkably easy, just as Burt had said it would be. Kurt never felt like he was getting swept away with passion, but he wrote it off as his nature being entirely different from Burt’s. The thing about passion was that it seemed to be messy and undignified, so Kurt was almost relieved he would be spared the unpleasantness of it. Having a boyfriend who was handsome, smart, talented, and above all . . . out . . . seemed like a dream that was too good to be real and he was completely satisfied with the situation.

Dalton tied with McKinley for Sectionals, but lost Regionals, and somehow Kurt and Blaine couldn’t maintain their relationship. They agreed to part with no harsh feelings when Blaine left for college in the fall, in any case. Dalton wasn’t so much fun then, and the stifling feelings he’d experienced only grew stronger. Kurt ached to go back to McKinley. When he came home for the spring break, he and Burt had a long talk, which resulted in Kurt re-entering McKinley for the last six weeks of the spring semester. The other members of New Directions didn’t seem to hold it against him that he had defected to their rivals, since most of them knew why he left, if not some of the more private details of what had gone on between him and Karofsky.

Every so often, Kurt wondered where Karofsky was and how he was doing. The halls of McKinley seemed oddly empty without his hulking presence filling them. Azimio seemed smaller without his buddy backing him up. Figgins and the school board had learned their lessons apparently, after having to pay through the nose to send Kurt to Dalton, and bullying and slushy wars were dealt with severely. No one wanted to cross Sue Sylvester either. She, more than anyone, had recognized the bad image that his flight reflected on McKinley and had made her thoughts on the matter clear – loudly and repeatedly. Although he still heard the occasional insult or epitaph flung his way, none of it was organized or concentrated. As a result, Kurt found that the rest of the year was remarkably drama free.

After a summer of considering college choices and taking an SAT prep class, Kurt entered his senior year with his spirits high.

A few days into the term, Kurt realized that there was a presence in the hallways, a person who hadn’t been there before. He looked up from his locker to see a broad back walking past, one that Kurt recognized in some way beyond really thinking about it. Karofsky had evidently returned from his exile and hadn’t made the slightest bit of a splash. The other boy didn’t exactly keep his head down, but he certainly made no attempt to assert himself either.

Kurt watched him carefully, alert for any sign of a return to the previous harassing behavior, but the hockey player acted like he didn’t even see Kurt. On the other hand, Kurt found himself growing increasingly curious about a number of things. For one thing, Karofsky had seemingly learned to dress himself, although the letterman jacket was noticeably absent. He wore jeans that weren’t as tight as Kurt’s, but somehow seemed to showcase his large muscular legs. His shirts were a little more fitted, exposing a broad expanse of chest.

He overheard a couple of Cheerios commenting that Karofsky seemed to have broke hot while he was away, and wondering who had taken him in hand. Kurt wondered the same thing, but he had to admit that the change was definitely for the better.

The big man was always on his own though, never in the company of the other jocks. He seemed to avoid them, putting his head down when a group in the red jackets approached him. He ate lunch by himself and didn’t speak to anyone.

Finally, Kurt’s curiosity became too much and he approached the big jock in the hallway while he was switching books out of his locker for his next class.

“Might I have a word with you?” Kurt asked, his voice feeling formal and frozen.

Karofsky glanced at him and then looked away quickly. “Sure. Meet me at lunch? I’ve got calc now.”

“Uh, yes,” Kurt answered, trying to hide his shock at the invitation, both the casual nature of it and the public nature of eating together.

With a nod, Karofsky said, “Later,” and then took off down the hall.

At lunch Kurt got his tray and then looked around carefully. Karofsky was sitting by himself, and picked his head up when he felt Kurt’s stare, but he made no move to wave him over. Kurt decided that the invitation was there anyway and settled onto the seat across from his former nemesis. At least, Kurt hoped that ‘former’ applied to Karofsky’s status as a bully.

“Hello,” he said cautiously, in case Karofsky regretted his agreement to eat together.

“Hey.” The other boy looked up in acknowledgment and then returned to his food.

“How are you?” Kurt asked, knowing that the question didn’t begin to cover all the things he wanted to ask Karofsky.

Dave looked up again and smiled. Kurt saw immediately that none of the anger he remembered was present in the Karofsky’s face.

“I’m good,” he answered.

“You don’t seem so angry anymore,” Kurt observed cautiously, testing the waters to see how much Karofsky would let him dig.

“Not at you anyway. Sometimes at myself, still. And other things.”

“Why? You can’t help how you’re made.”

“Not about that.” Karofsky ducked his head. “The things I did. I regret them.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “Okay.”

“I shouldn’t have taken things out on you.”

“Threatening to kill me was pretty extreme.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have. I just . . . didn’t know what to do.”

Karofsky shrugged, chewing his food. Kurt supposed that was the closest to an explanation he was going to get, so he pushed his green beans around with his fork debating whether to eat them or not.

They ate in silence until Karofsky broke it with, “Sometimes I’m still angry with my parents. And God. But mostly I just save it for people who deserve it.”

Kurt was a little surprised that the other boy felt like he had to explain himself, but he was intrigued by the changes and couldn’t repress his curiosity. “I’m glad you found some peace. Mind if I ask what happened?”

“The whole story?”

Kurt laughed. “If I’m not prying too much.”

Karofsky smiled back. “You’re totally prying and you know it.” He sighed. “But that’s okay. You of all people have the right.”

He stirred his mashed potatoes with his fork, making some random designs. “After the school board reinstated me, I came back and you were gone. Puckerman gave me shit about driving you away. Did he ever tell you that?”

“Puck?” Kurt was bewildered.

“Yeah, called you his boy. That sort of pissed me off.”

Kurt knew his mouth was gaping unattractively. “Puck?” he squeaked.

Dave shrugged. “Yeah, he was mad about the whole thing. And when even Puckerman thinks you’re a jerk, you’ve got to be a pretty bad person. It was like someone poured ice over me, making me realize how horrible I’d become. I couldn’t stand myself anymore. I thought about doing some really bad things. Permanent things. Just to stop from feeling so horrible.”

Kurt understood what he meant and didn’t need it clarified so he nodded, feeling chilled.

“So I told my parents the truth.”

“How did that go?”

“My mom was really pissed. She couldn’t decide whether to hug me or hit me, I think.”

“Pissed about the gay thing?” Kurt kept his voice low, not wanting to accidentally out the boy and start trouble up again.

“No, about how I treated you, about what I thought about doing.”

“Ah. And your dad?”

“He was . . . upset, confused. He wanted to send me to one of those reprogramming places.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt breathed. He wondered if that’s where Karofsky had gotten his newfound equilibrium, but the thought of it made him sad. “Did he?”

“No, our pastor talked him out of it.”

“Your pastor? Really.”

“I know, right? But he said those places didn’t work, in his opinion, and just made people feel worse about themselves.”

“Thank Gaga.”

“Yeah, but he thought I should go somewhere else for a while, get away from my old patterns and learn how to make better choices. My dad’s youngest brother lives in Cincy, so they enrolled me in a school there.”

“Cincinnati? That’s a pretty big city.”

“Yeah, those city schools are a lot different from McKinley. I guess the kids there are exposed to more stuff, so things don’t matter so much. And I was nothing there – not a jock, not a bully . . . a nobody. I got my chance to start over.”

“So, what happened?”

“I met a girl,” Karofsky answered. “She was smart, and popular, and athletic. She had the most rocking bod I ever saw. All the teachers loved her, and she was a really good person.” His eyes were soft and warm like Kurt had never seen him look before.

Something like fear clenched Kurt’s gut, but he didn’t understand why the thought of Karofsky denying his nature bothered him so much. “You love her,” he accused.

Karofsky stared out the windows blankly for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do. Funny, I never thought about it before.”

“So she converted you, and now your life is normal and happy.” Kurt kept the bitterness out of his voice with effort.

“What? No. Yeah, I’d sleep with her in a heartbeat, if she asked, but that doesn’t make me any less gay. Plus, she’s never going to ask.”

Kurt boggled a little bit at Karofsky’s casual description of himself as gay. He asked faintly, “Why not?”

“I was totally in awe of her, and scared to even talk to her. Until I saw her kissing her girlfriend in the hallway, and realized that I needed to get to know her.”

“She’s gay?”

“Yeah. I had one class with her, so we ditched when I asked her if we could talk. I told her everything, every stupid act, every desperate thought. I fucking cried on her shoulder. Most embarrassing moment of my life.”

“But she helped you.”

Karofsky nodded. “She took me home and introduced me to her parents. They go to a church, called the Cathedral of Hope. It’s for gay people and their families. They don’t preach hate there, just love.”

Kurt supposed that Karofsky needed religion in his life. Some people did. He nodded, “That’s good.”

“My uncle and I went to services together. I was in counseling too. When I learned to stop hating myself, I stopped doing things to make my life suck. Pulled my grades up. Made some other friends who were good people too. Got serious about hockey and started playing on a traveling team to get noticed by college scouts.”

“I . . . wow. That’s amazing. I’m glad for you.”

“Thanks.” Karofsky ducked his head back to his plate of food. “Experimented with a few guys too. Put to rest the question of whether I’m really gay or not.”

Kurt fought down a blush at the mental picture of Karofsky involved in some of the acts he’d seen on the internet. “Good for you,” he managed finally. “You sound like you were really happy there. Why come back?”

“I had to face down the bad shit, get over it, forgive myself and move on. I couldn’t do that there.” He looked up at Kurt, his eyes pleading for something. “I didn’t know you’d be here, I swear. I’m not trying to bother you or do anything to upset you. I’ll keep out of your way, promise.”

Kurt had no doubt that Karofsky would do exactly that, but somehow the idea didn’t sit too well with him. He was still the only openly gay person at McKinley, to his knowledge, and Karofsky had left behind a hell of a support system in Cincinnati. He didn’t know if they could ever be friends, but cutting off all contact between them seemed silly.

“I can’t pretend that you don’t still make me nervous,” Kurt said. “But we both grew up a lot in the last year. I think we need each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not saying we should suddenly be besties, but if there’s some way we could at least demonstrate that a meeting of the minds is possible between former enemies, that would probably be good for both of us. Not to mention a good example for the rest of the philistines here.”

“Okay.” Karofsky took a deep breath. “How about you? I thought . . . you were happy. Away from here.”

“Well, much as an all-boys school sounds like a gay man’s paradise . . . I have some very good friends here. Some of whom are girls. I missed them.”

“Yeah. How about you and that preppy kid? You together?”

Kurt presumed he meant Blaine. “He was a senior last year, so he’s off at college. But no, we broke up before that although we remain on friendly terms.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.”

With his lunch finished, Kurt stood up and picked up his tray. He held out his free hand to Karofsky. “Truce?”

The bigger man smiled and engulfed Kurt’s hand in his, grasping it firmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Kurt hummed Rihanna’s latest song as he dumped off his tray and headed for his civics class. Mercedes joined him in the hallway, puzzlement written all over her face.

“You did not just eat lunch with the guy who drove you away from here.”

“Oh, but I did,” he corrected her.

“Sweet baby Jesus, why would you do that?”

“Because he’s changed. And I’ve changed. We both can’t afford to keep treating each other like we have been.”

“Ignoring him completely seems like the safest option.”

“No.” Kurt shook his head. “That wouldn’t work.”

She frowned at him, clearly not liking the situation. “If you’re sure . . . .”

“I am.”

“So . . . what? You’re friends now?”

“I don’t know if I would call us that.” Kurt considered it. He was reluctant to name Karofsky as an ally, although that’s what he was, for fear of the word having connotations that anyone with enough smarts could figure out. One thing he hadn’t asked the jock was whether he was out at this school, and he wasn’t about to do anything to upset the balance of their agreement. “Let’s just say we’re people who don’t hate each other anymore.”

Mercedes gave him a long, appraising look, which made Kurt squirm. “Hate?”

Kurt flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his jacket. “An ugly word. I refuse to indulge in it.”

She shook her head. “Whatever you say, white boy.”

He hooked his arm through hers, and distracted her with prattle about his plans for their next set of costumes for New Directions.

After that he and Karofsky nodded to each other in the hallways, exchanged pleasantries in the lunch lines, and generally acted as cordial as possible. Rachel gave them odd looks and Finn looked satisfied most of the time. Sam winced a little, and the whole thing just generally puzzled Puck.

-+-+-+- 

“He’s hot,” Santana proclaimed as Kurt walked into glee. “Don’t know what that boy did while he was gone, but dayum. Brit and I need to hit that.”

Puck shook his head. “Just leave the poor bastard alone, bitch.”

“Who are we talking about?” Kurt asked, settling into his chair, although he was pretty sure he already knew.

“Your new best friend,” Santana answered.

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?” Puck asked. “It’s fucking creepy. I still think he needs a beat down for running you out of here last year.”

“We’re hardly best friends,” Kurt argued. “We decided that being enemies was a waste of time.”

“How charming,” Santana snarked. “You should get the Nobel Peace Prize.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but Mr. Schuester walked in at that moment, so he directed his attention to the teacher and hoped that Santana didn’t upset Dave too much.

The next day, Santana came in looking like someone had pissed in her coffee.

“That jerk turned me down,” she declared with a huff, throwing herself into one of the chairs.

“How tragic,” Mercedes said, rolling her eyes and elbowing Kurt.

“Isn’t it?” Santana answered. “Did you see the size of those feet of his? You know what they say about proportions. I need that gigantic thing stroking my ladyparts.”

Kurt choked on his tongue, now having unwanted images of Karofsky in a sexual situation with Santana’s ‘ladyparts.’ Ew.

Mercedes snorted. “Get a little class, it wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t get me laid either.”

“Some boys don’t look good in flannel,” Brittany added obscurely. “Like Kurt.”

“Grunge is so passé,” Kurt agreed, not entirely sure what they were talking about.

Puck was staring at Brittany though, making Kurt wonder if Puck had some insight into the girl’s psyche that none of the rest of them had.

“Why would he turn you down?” Puck asked. “No one turns you down.”

“I know, right?” Santana huffed.

“Maybe he’s opposed to picking up STDs or even sloppy fiftieths or whatever the count is now,” Kurt put in, knowing he was risking death by insulting Santana, but feeling like Dave needed protecting from her. Then he was angry with himself for thinking that the lump of lard needed anything from him at all.

The next day, before the bell rang, Kurt stood in front of his locker trying to remember if he’d actually saved his English essay to his flash drive or not. Puck walked by and nudged him. Kurt looked up to see Puck bearing down on Karofsky, whose locker was down the hall a bit from Kurt’s.

“Oh, shit,” Kurt whispered, forgetting about his essay in the face of what he was sure was impending disaster.

“Yo, Karofsky,” Puck said.

Dave looked up, clearly startled by Puck’s greeting. “Puckerman,” he nodded.

Puck threw himself beside Dave, resting against the bank of lockers, hands in his pockets in what Kurt could clearly see was a fake attempt at casual. “So. Caleb’s dad is getting him a hooker for his eighteenth birthday on Saturday. She’s agreed to fuck his friends too. You in?”

“Why the fuck would I want a whore?” Dave answered, looking as sick as Kurt felt.

“Free poon, man!” Puck answered excitedly.

“No, thanks.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m not into STDs, sorry.”

“Come on, that’s what condoms are for.”

“I said no.”

“Ah, Karofsky, be a man. You can bone her, and not have to worry about her following you around later.”

Puck kept pushing and Kurt couldn’t figure out what game he was playing. Kurt knew damn well that Puck didn’t see women like that anymore, but he was pretending to be an asshole for some reason.

“Thanks for the invite anyway.”

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Puck fired back. “What teenaged boy doesn’t want the chance to sink his rod into some hot and gooshy pussy? I can’t believe you’re passing this up.”

Dave shook his head, his eyebrows drawing down as he frowned at Puck. Kurt noticed his fists clenching and knew that Karofsky was holding on to his temper with effort. Puck was enough to test the very saints, and Gaga knew that Dave wasn’t even close to being up to dealing with the mohawked boy. Other students sensing the tension between the two of them stopped to watch, crowding the hall.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Puck demanded.

“Oh my Madonna,” Kurt whispered.

It was like watching a deadly car wreck in progress . . . you could see it was going to happen, but you could do nothing to stop it. Kurt was frozen, unable to take any action to stop Puck, knowing that the other boy had already gone too far and was going to get his ass thoroughly smashed.

“I’m gay, all right!” Dave finally shouted, but then the anger fled and his face closed down on itself into a sullen dullness that Kurt recognized instantly.

The moment hung there – swelling and gathering like a snake about to strike. Violence seethed at the edges of the small group of students, lurking like a sickening fog of disaster. He could see Azimio shoving past students down the hall, trying to get to the group. His presence wouldn’t help anything, especially because Kurt had no idea whether he’d hit Puck for bothering Karofsky or Dave for being gay. Kurt knew he should do something, play the mediator, insert a witty quip to break up the tension, but the look on Karofsky’s face held him paralyzed with a fear that he recognized – the familiar terror of being helpless in the face of blind hatred and rage. He knew that Dave had changed, become a better person, but his lizard brain was still terrified of the big jock.

Puck shrugged, holding out his hand with the palm up. “It’s cool, man. You’re still the most badass right wing ever.”

The blackness gathering around them fled, and Dave’s face relaxed. He reached out and slapped Puck’s palm, eyes puzzled and relieved. “Uh, thanks, Puckerman.”

“So . . . you and Kurt? You hooking up?”

Dave glanced over at Kurt, who was still trying to convince his racing heart that the danger was over. Dave rubbed his forehead. “No. Just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean we’re each other’s type. It’s not like you’re attracted to every girl you see, right?”

The question broke Kurt out of his stasis, and he couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips. He made sure to put as much swish in his walk as he could as he strutted over to the group. “Do you even go here? You couldn’t possibly have picked a worse example than Puck.”

He tugged on Dave’s arm, pulling him away from the small crowd. No matter how much Dave claimed to have accepted himself, being forced into a corner by Puck couldn’t be comfortable. He glared at Puck. “No more accidentally outing people.”

Then he paused, as Puck’s relentlessness suddenly made sense. “Wait. You knew, didn’t you? How?”

Puck shrugged. “Brittany’s smarter than people give her credit for. She gets people.”

“What now?” Dave asked.

“Look, Karofsky, I really don’t give a shit,” Puck answered. “And just so you know . . . we’ll have your back, just like we have his,” he added, nodding to Kurt.

“Why the fuck would you care?” Dave asked in shocked tones.

“Misfits gotta stick together.”

“That’s Puck logic for you,” Kurt muttered. “Come on.”

Azimio broke through the ranks of students, with a shout of, “Puckerman, what the fuck?”

Kurt decided that neither of them needed to be around while Azimio and Puck worked out their differences. He tugged on Dave’s arm again, leading him along the hall until they reached the back staircase that most people rarely used since it lead to the freshman hall. Kurt pushed Dave against the wall before he could fall down and then stepped back, waiting to see what the jock would do.

He didn’t do anything except stare at his shoes, which Kurt noted incongruously were every bit as big as Santana reported. He wrenched his mind out of the gutter to concentrate on the task at hand, namely, not getting the shit beat out of him by a suddenly outed Karofsky.

“Puck’s an idiot.” Kurt said finally. “Are you all right?”

“I guess so.”

“Where you . . . I mean . . . did you plan on coming out here?”

Instead of answering, Dave turned around and punched his fist into the wall. “Ow,” he said, shaking his hand.

Fear spiked through Kurt and he regretted bringing such a violent man to their relatively secluded place, although the video cameras would surely pick it up if Karofsky killed him.

Dave glanced at him. “Sorry. I’m just sick of it.”

“Sick of what?”

“Coming out. How many times do I have to do it? First my parents, then my pastor and my uncle. Then the kids in Cincinnati. Now here.”

Kurt nodded. Dave had a point, one that pissed Kurt off frequently when he thought about how easy straight people had it, not worrying about announcing their sexuality.

“What are you going to do now?” Kurt asked carefully, not wanting to set Dave off again, but needing to know what Dave planned to do.

Karofsky shook his head. “Puckerman has no idea how to do subtle, does he?”

“Not in the slightest,” Kurt laughed.

“I guess I’m out then,” Dave sighed. “Not that I planned on hiding . . .”

“But being outed by Puck in the middle of a busy hall isn’t what you’d ever choose.”

“Yeah.”

Dave leaned back against the wall, looking tired. Kurt wondered how hard it was for him – having expectations put on him by other people that were so completely far from the truth. Kurt was lucky in so many ways, not the least being that no one had ever thought that he was anything than what he was. He realized that he’d somehow forgiven the other boy for his treatment of him. They would probably never be friends, but at least they understood each other.

“Figgins got tough on bullying last year. After . . . you left.”

“I heard.”

“What I mean is . . . you won’t get slushied. You might get rude comments.” Kurt wondered if Azimio knew the truth or if the morning’s confrontation had just cost Dave a friend.

“Are you trying to comfort me?”

“Failing at it, I guess,” Kurt said wryly. But he felt like he needed to reassure his former bully that things wouldn’t be so bad. “Finn and Puck won’t let the football team do anything to you. Bieste won’t either.”

“I’m not playing football anymore,” Dave responded absently. “My contract prevents it.”

“Contract?”

“Yeah, for the select hockey team. You have to agree that you won’t play for any other team or any other sports. I got a release to play hockey for McKinley just because it’s extra experience, but I still need to try out for the team.”

Kurt remembered then what was missing . . . the letterman jacket, a symbol of terror in his mind. He hadn’t seen Karofsky in it the whole semester. “You’re not wearing the jacket.”

Dave shrugged. “I’m not on the team yet, so I’m not allowed.”

Not knowing whether to hope that he didn’t make it and so never put the jacket on again, Kurt said instead, “The first period bell already rang. We should go.”

Shaking his head, Dave plopped down onto the top step. “Nah, I’m just gonna hang. Clear my head.”

“Okay.” Kurt hesitated, and then pulled out a pack of stickie notes from his bag, scribbled his number on the top note, and then pulled it off the stack, holding it out to Karofsky. “Here’s my cell. If you need anything.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

When Kurt looked back, just before he exited the stairwell, Dave was staring at his shoes again.

-+-+-+- 

The atmosphere at McKinley was odd for a few weeks after Puck’s confrontation with Karofsky. No one seemed to know how to behave around the big hockey player. Kurt kept his ears alert for rumors and shifts in the mood of the students, a skill learned in self-defense after years of being stalked by the more unsavory elements of the McKinley student population, so he paid close attention to things being said. And not being said.

Several times, people started to say something derogatory to Karofsky, but they seemed to get lost halfway through their thoughts, as though something about him disrupted their thought processes. Kurt supposed that Karofsky upset everyone’s perception of how the world was supposed to work. Kurt himself being gay was exactly what everyone expected and didn’t shake anyone’s preconceived notions about sexuality. Dave, on the other hand, was unexpected and difficult. Kurt was a little peeved that Karofsky managed to further gay acceptance just by being his uncivilized self.

“This week’s challenge is going to be something a little different,” Mr. Schuester announced.

“Please, nothing lame,” Mercedes whispered.

“Now, I know several of you have used Glee Club as a forum to express your emotions about other members, and while I’m happy that you’ve found an outlet for your feelings, for this week, I want you to look outward.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Rachel said. “True art comes from within and a singer of my caliber has to find the depth of emotion inside her heart.”

“And that’s the challenge,” Mr. Schue answered. “This week . . . find a song that you can imagine someone else would sing to you. Reach outside your normal range and put yourself in someone else’s shoes.”

“That’s easy enough,” Kurt said, turning to Mercedes. “What would you sing to me?”

“Ha, Kurt. No cheating. You can’t ask. You have to come up with this on your own.”

“My house, after,” Mercedes whispered. “We can at least brainstorm together.”

“Okay.”

Kurt ignored the rest of club while Rachel babbled something about coming to her if they were unsure what they should do and Puck tried to show Finn their latest choreography steps.

The problem with his music collection was that the songs that showcased his voice best tended to be Broadway laments or divalicious ballads. All of them were about ‘I’ and none of them about ‘you’ really. He couldn’t think of any that anyone might sing to him, especially since his one experience with being serenaded had been decidedly a surprise, and slightly surreal. He didn’t want a song that would invoke the whole friends/brother thing again. Hopefully Mercedes could help.

The next morning, Kurt was reasonably satisfied with his choice, although he still thought the assignment fell into the ‘lame’ category. He put on his pink quilted leather blazer to celebrate, and was humming his song choice as he walked into school that morning. He saw Dave walking toward him and realized with a shock of fear that Dave had the letterman jacket on again. The sight of the red wool body with the off-white sleeves caused an instinctive response as Kurt’s brain insisted that he was in danger and needed to flee immediately.

Kurt couldn’t help his reaction, backing up against the lockers and hoping that the slushy wouldn’t react too badly with the pink leather.

“Morning,” Dave said as he passed.

Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t in any danger, Kurt straightened up slowly. He hoped his expression hadn’t given him away, but Dave had already turned around, walking back to him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s . . . it’s just stupid.”

“Kurt . . .” Karofsky pressed.

Astounded that Dave had actually used his given name, Kurt blurted out, “The jacket.”

“What?”

“I know it’s foolish, but for years I associated people wearing that jacket with slushies, and dumpster tosses, and body slams, and any other sort of brutality. I know you aren’t like that anymore, but part of me still reacts.”

“Do you want me to stop wearing it?”

Kurt seriously considered saying yes to that for a moment. But he knew how much being on the team meant to the hockey player, and he got the whole ‘unity’ thing especially after his time at Dalton. He knew that part of Karofsky’s issue with his sexuality was that it made him an outsider to his chosen group. Kurt didn’t feel particularly like being gracious at the moment, though, not with his heart still pounding.

His pride asserted itself in the end. “No, that’s okay. I need to deal with my fears, and it’s just a piece of clothing. Jackets don’t bully people . . .”

“People bully people,” Dave finished for him, a half smile curving his lips. “You sure?”

“Demons. We all have them. In my experience, it’s best to face them.”

He turned to his locker and Dave moved off down the hallway. The steel door swung open and Kurt stared at his reflection in the mirror there. His eyes were huge still and his face unattractively pale. He pinched his cheeks to get the color back. He could put on some blush, but with his complexion, it was usually overkill and would look tacky when his body settled back into equilibrium. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out his books for first period.

By lunch, Kurt had recovered. He put his tray down at the Glee table, although it seemed that almost anyone in their senior class might show up at the table these days. Karofsky didn’t eat with them, and actually in the last few weeks, usually ate by himself. Although today, Kurt noticed that Azimio sitting across from him with a defiant look on his face like Karofsky was going to yell at him. Dave just looked at him and continued eating. Maybe since Dave was back on the hockey team, Azimio was willing to talk to him again. Kurt wondered if Puck’s exposure of Karofsky’s secret had a side benefit of bringing their friendship back. Maybe it made Kurt safer from the other athlete too.

At glee club that afternoon, Kurt softly hummed the music to his song under his breath while he waited through Schue’s tedious recapping of the whole assignment.

“Mr. Schue,” Rachel said, with her arm in the air. “I would be happy to sing my selection for the assignment first, so that everyone can benefit from my example.”

“All right, Rachel,” he agreed. “Go ahead.”

She walked towards the piano and handed her music to Brad. Turning to face the rest of the club, she said, “This song perfectly showcases the higher end of my range as well as being a beautiful song that I can imagine someone singing to me some day.”

Brad started playing and Rachel opened her mouth to belt out some overly familiar lines.

 _If I should stay  
I would only be in your way  
So I'll go, but I know  
I'll think of you every step of the way_

“Gaga spare us,” Kurt muttered. “Could she be _more_ of a cliché?”

“She and Finn off again?” Mercedes asked under her breath.

“Yes, hence the song.”

 _“And I will always love you”_ , Rachel warbled.

“She's totally cheating then!” Mercedes hissed. “This is aimed at him.”

Kurt had to agree, and much as he really did love Rachel, he was duty-bound to stay out of things between her and Finn. Luckily, she hadn't asked for any inside info this time.

When it was his turn, Kurt stood up and handed his music to Brad.

“I've chosen 'Only You' by Yaz. I feel that Allison Moyet's voice is a perfect compliment to mine, both in range and tonal quality, however the sentiment of the lyrics is definitely one that I can imagine hearing some day.”

He had changed one pronoun to make the lyrics more appropriate for him personally, but he doubted anyone would notice, or care. Kurt didn't worry much anymore about laying things on the line in front of these people. After his relationship with Blaine, they all accepted that yes, he was gay, and he was also a horny teenaged boy who enjoyed sex. They'd all gotten over it, and he and Finn had gotten to the point where they teased each other over their romantic mishaps. So he was glad that this ragtag group of rebels was on his side.

 _All I needed was the love you gave  
All I needed for another day  
And all I ever knew  
Only you_

 _Sometimes when I think of his name when it's only a game  
And I need you  
Listen to the words that you say it's getting harder to stay  
When I see you_

The song took advantage of most of his register, and he really enjoyed the act of singing – it was satisfying in a deep down way. He owed Mercedes big time for finding it.

As he sang, he tried to imagine some man singing it to him. The features were indistinct, but he loved Kurt utterly and only, and needed Kurt in his life. Kurt didn't want some comfortable or pleasant love that just flowed on with no highs or lows. He knew that passion couldn’t be maintained for the whole length of a relationship, but just once, he wished he could experience it.

-+-+-+- 

Christmas brought Blaine back from school, and he immediately called Kurt. They met up for dinner and then parking in an out of the way spot on the edge of the mall. Blaine’s talented fingers knew exactly how to wring an orgasm out of Kurt and he panted harshly as Blaine worked him expertly until he spilled all over the older boy’s hand. Kurt returned the favor naturally, and then settled back with a big grin on his face. An orgasm with company was much better than one on his own, which was the only thing he’d been getting recently.

“Let’s go hang out somewhere,” Blaine suggested.

Kurt winced. “Can’t. School tomorrow, remember? I still have a week left. I have a presentation in government and a calculus test on Friday.”

“Who gives tests the day before Winter Break?”

“Mrs. O’Neill is a bitch.”

Home in bed, Kurt wondered why he’d just had sex with Blaine. He was totally over the other boy and not willing to be Blaine’s fling just because he was bored over the break.

However, Blaine managed to talk himself into an invitation to Kurt and Mercedes annual ninja raid on the stores in Columbus the day after Christmas.

“Fine,” Kurt snarled into the phone. “Do _not_ get in my way. Cedes and I have a system.”

“Hey, now, I’m just as in to fashion as you are,” Blaine responded, entreaty in his tone.

Somehow Kurt doubted that statement. In fact, he suspected Blaine of making over use of mail order. Although the man undoubtedly appreciated high fashion; he wasn’t much of a shopper, not having the dedication necessary to fight for the last pair of John Galiano gloves or an amazing Versace scarf. Kurt didn’t want an amateur slowing him down.

“We’ll pick you up at 8:30. Sharp. We want to be there when the doors open at nine.”

“I’ll be ready!” Blaine responded cheerfully.

Kurt ended the call, and then thumped himself on the forehead with his phone, not looking forward to his next call . . . Mercedes. He didn’t understand how things had gotten so complicated. He and Blaine were over, but he had this lingering desire to be with the other man. And stick his tongue down his throat. And jack him off until he sprayed all over the place. Kurt decided to blame his overly active hormones for his waffling on the subject of Blaine.

Pressing Mercedes’ number, he sighed to himself, mentally bracing for a virtual bitch slapping.

-+-+-+- 

The next morning, Kurt felt like he was Hillary Clinton, trying to keep the peace between warring nations. Neither Blaine nor Mercedes seemed willing to give in on the subject of Kurt’s attention.

“We’re not dating again,” he whispered frantically to Mercedes, the one of them that he thought was being more self-aware about the situation. “Can’t you just play nice?”

“He’s ruining my chi with his bad energy.”

Kurt stalked off with a huff, leaving the two of them behind. He was determined to get what he came for and if they had to trail after him, so be it. He tuned out Blaine’s aimless chatter and Mercedes’ ill-concealed bitchery.

Pretending he was alone without his misguided escort, Kurt was able to get most of his shopping done. Coming out of the Macy’s, he paused for a moment, debating his next move. Blaine was evidently tired of shopping because he was getting touchy, slipping his hands around Kurt’s arm and leaning in so Kurt could feel the warmth of his chest below his cashmere sweater. Kurt knew exactly how his day would end – he and Blaine somewhere private, jerking each other off. He decided he was fine with that, and really, he deserved a bit of a reward for putting up with so much annoyance on his favorite day of the year.

Across the way, two men walked out of the Big ‘n’ Tall store. Kurt watched them without really seeing until he realized that he knew them – Karofsky and his father. Kurt supposed that they both qualified as ‘tall’ although the clothes Dave wore these days showed that he was also ‘big’ but not in an unappealing way.

Before Kurt could pull his eyes away, Dave turned around and saw him watching. He gave Kurt a polite nod, which Kurt returned. And then he watched as the big jock’s eyes slid over Kurt’s shoulder where Blaine was attempting to whisper lewd promises in his ear. Dave turned away, leaning towards his father, and Kurt wanted to rush over there and explain that he and Blaine weren’t dating. But that would lead to trying to explain what they _were_ doing and Kurt didn’t feel strong enough to attempt it, since he wasn’t really sure himself.

Besides . . . Karofsky didn’t have any right to know anything about Kurt’s personal life and Kurt didn’t owe him anything. He still felt weird though, and he shrugged his shoulders to dislodge Blaine and give himself a little breathing room.

Later, after a whispered, hissing fight with Mercedes that oddly included statements like _he’s leaving in a few weeks_ and _no, I’m not getting my heart broken_ , Kurt and Blaine had his bedroom to themselves.

Blaine wasted no time getting Kurt’s pants open and Kurt didn’t resist. Blaine’s hand on his cock was warm and skilled. Kurt tried to lose himself in the pleasure of someone touching him, someone who knew what he liked, but the frustrations of the day kept interfering with his concentration.

The absolute topper of it all was seeing Karofsky, and then Blaine making Kurt look like a liar about the state of their relationship. A sense memory hit Kurt then – of big hands cupping his face, long strong fingers touching him.

His orgasm barreled out of nowhere and hit him like a freight train. He shrieked as he came, indifferent to the need to be quiet. Blaine stroked him as the tremors shook him until he gradually eased, and then crawled up Kurt’s body to give him a sloppy kiss.

“Guess I haven’t lost my touch,” Blaine said, a world of smugness in his tone.

Kurt didn’t argue with him, just reached inside Blaine’s boxer briefs and worked intently on Blaine’s cock. He tried to ignore the fact that he just came in colors while thinking about Karofsky’s hands, of all things. He refused to admit that he might have just a tiny kink for those particular hands.

Blaine came on schedule and then tried to cuddle. Kurt pushed him towards the couch.

“No. You aren’t getting into my pants again. And we’re not together.”

“Please, Kurt,” Blaine whined.

He looked to genuinely sad that Kurt relented, pulling back the covers to let the older boy crawl in with him. “What’s wrong? I don’t think you’re really carrying some undying torch for me.”

Blaine shifted around until he was comfortable, and firmly on his side of the bed. He shrugged. “College is harder than I thought. It’s so big, you know? Compared to Dalton.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, well, there’s lots of gay guys to choose from, but it’s just hard to connect with someone for anything other than a quick lay. I just needed a friend.”

“Okay, fine. But we have to stop this other stuff. It’s just confusing.”

“Deal,” Blaine murmured, his voice already sounding like it was on the edge of sleep.

Blaine kept his word, and his hands to himself. The rest of his break passed without incident and Kurt rediscovered the friend that Blaine had been before they got together, much to his surprise and relief. He was aware that some people weren’t capable of being friends when the relationship was over, but he was glad to find that he wasn’t one of those.

-+-+-+- 

Second semester of his final year of high school began with Kurt anxiously checking the mail for college letters. He was thrilled to find that he had several choices, as did Finn. Dinner at the Hummel-Hudson household started involving arguments over the relative merits of the various choices that both boys were facing.

School was pretty much a cruise at this point with even Mrs. O’Neill seeming to concede that they had other things on their minds than differential equations. She still drove them hard, as they would be taking the AP test in May in hopes of getting those college credits.

Glee was endlessly entertaining and with the pressure off to win Nationals to keep the club alive, they could have fun with things while they worked on their numbers for the upcoming Regionals.

At the end of January, Puck stormed into the choir room, looking murderous.

“What’s up, man?” Mike asked.

Puck looked around at them, seeming to mentally count to see if everyone was there. “I heard some rumors. We need to take action.”

“Rumors about what?” Finn asked.

“I’m with ya, bro,” Artie put in, his automatic support earning a brief grin from the Mohawked teen.

“Word got out to some of the other schools about Karofsky and his . . . status,” Puck said with a glance at Kurt. “The Titans are playing Carmel away this weekend. From what I hear, they plan to administer a beat down on him.”

“Why?” Santana asked.

“Cause he’s gay. And a jock. Upsets the order of the universe or something.” Puck looked uncomfortable, and Kurt wondered if Puck was remembering his past behavior to Kurt.

“During the game?” Finn asked, his face furrowed in confusion. Kurt wondered why he’d ever found that appealing.

“The refs would make sure nothing happened during the game,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t they?”

“It’s hockey, man,” Puck answered. “You know as well as I do that shit happens that the refs can’t stop. And Dave will be wearing a target on his back.”

“I don’t see how that concerns us,” Mercedes said.

“It’s mainly after the game that I’m worried about,” Puck said. “Especially if we win.”

“What do you want to do?” Artie asked.

Kurt wanted to roll his eyes at Artie’s all too obvious man-crush on Puck, except that he thought it was returned. Not like _that_ , but clearly Puck respected Artie’s opinions on things.

“I say we go there for the game and then after, make sure that no one lays a finger on Karofsky,” Puck replied.

That was enough to make Kurt snap, as memories of _fingers_ and hands and slushies and more being laid on him flooded his brain.

“Where were you when I needed protection? Why is his safety more important than mine? Is he more valuable just because he’s an athlete?”

Kurt couldn’t stop the flow of words and couldn’t pull his voice back from the high-pitched shriek. He was beyond being rational about the whole thing. The double- standard made him simultaneously want to cry and want to just fucking punch Puck’s face in.

“Shut up, Hummel!” Puck growled, stepping up to get in his face. “Maybe we learned our lesson about standing up for our friends. And _maybe_ you taught us to value everyone no matter what.”

“Puck’s right,” Sam said. “We should have done something before it got too bad. I’m sorry we learned too late to help you, but we’re not going to stand by and let someone else get hurt.”

“He has the rest of the hockey team,” Kurt protested, calming down a little and trying to find some logic to sway them.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck conceded, “and they’re motivated to keep him safe, cause he improved a lot when he was gone. He’s the best on the team.”

“See? He’ll be fine.”

“Will they know what to look for though?” Finn asked, unexpectedly supporting Puck. “You hid things really well, but we learned. Azimio and the rest might not know he was getting harassed.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kurt snarled. “I think someone shouting _faggot!_ at the top of their lungs is a pretty good clue.”

“Look, we’re doing this,” Puck said. “Who’s with me?”

The rest of the boys in Glee agreed to go, and the girls all said they would be there with cell phones at the ready in case things got out of hand. Kurt sat on one of the hard chairs with his arms folded across his chest, thinking bleak thoughts about how he and Karofsky couldn’t avoid being lumped together due to their orientation, no matter how much they _didn’t_ have in common. Puck seemed to expect some sort of ‘gay solidarity’ out of him, no matter what issues lay between him and Karofsky.

“You in or not?” Puck asked him after they finalized their plans to meet up and drive together to the other school.

“Fine,” Kurt grumped.

They met in the school parking lot the next day. Kurt agreed to drive, since his Navigator would seat nine people. They folded Artie’s wheelchair up in the back and Puck picked him up easily, putting him in the front passenger seat.

“Head for the Civic Center,” Puck instructed as he found a place beside Mercedes.

“I thought it was at Carmel,” Kurt said as he put the truck in gear.

“Don’t be a dumbshit,” Puck said. “Schools don’t have their own rinks. Not unless they’re some fancy-ass prep place.”

Kurt huffed in annoyance at the dig at his time at such a preparatory school. To his knowledge, Dalton didn’t have any sort of athletics program. Perhaps that was why the Warblers were held in such high regard. He thought it was a shame that no school population seemed to be able to equally appreciate both the arts and athletics. The ways of the world pretty much sucked, in his opinion.

They pulled out their McKinley IDs at the ticket counter and were given the reduced price for students of the schools competing. Puck led them to seats even with the center ice and across from the players’ bench. Both teams were on the ice already, skating what looked like warm up drills, but it was a confusing mass of people. The hockey players didn’t have eye protection, but the oddly flattened helmets distorted their features so much that Kurt couldn’t recognize any of them. The only one he could be sure of was Azimio, and that was only because of his skin color.

“Which one is Karofsky?” Rachel asked to Kurt’s relief.

He didn’t want to act like he cared, and he didn’t want to expose his ignorance of the game. Although, he was sure that not a single one of his friends would be surprised by his lack of knowledge.

“He’s number 29,” Puck answered.

A buzzer sounded and the swirling skaters stopped, some of them moving to the benches and some remaining on the ice. With the lack of movement, Kurt easily found Karofsky. He was at the ring in the center of the ice, hunched over his hockey stick and glaring at the opposing player with an expression that Kurt recognized . . . pure unadulterated menace. Kurt decided that the look must be part of the other boy’s strategy. He knew from personal experience that when faced with that look, even the most courageous person got a little jelly-legged.

The referee dropped the puck and blew his whistle, starting the game. Karofsky banged his stick on the ice, corralling the puck and sending it shooting towards one of the McKinley players.

Kurt lost track of the game after that. The puck moved around too quickly for him to follow, although Finn and Puck seemed to understand what was going on. Unlike football, the hockey game didn’t seem to stop to let the players rearrange themselves. Kurt had a new respect for the endurance of the hockey players.

The other team had the puck behind their goal when most of the McKinley team skated to the bench, coming off the ice. Other players replaced them by hopping over the wall and quickly moving into position while the play continued.

“What was that?” Kurt asked, interested in spite of himself.

“Line change,” Finn answered. “No one can play an entire game. It’s too hard.”

Later in the period, one of the Carmel players seemed to have a breakaway and was destined to score, but the referee blew the whistle and called the play back.

“They almost had us,” Kurt exclaimed. “What happened?”

Puck looked amused. “Off sides. The guy was over the blue line when he took the pass. The puck has to come across first.”

“I see.”

“You’re awfully interested in this,” Puck observed with a smirk on his face.

“I was practically coerced into attending this barbaric sport,” Kurt replied. “Since I’m forced to be here, I might as well learn something about it.”

“Whatever you say,” Puck said.

“I’m always open to new experiences,” Kurt sniffed.

Artie looked amused too, but Puck didn’t say anything else.

The period wound down and nothing much else happened. There were a few penalties for tripping and high sticking, but nothing exciting. The game was just a bunch of half-grown men in extremely unattractive uniforms. Football at least had the benefit of showcasing the backsides of the men wearing the uniform, but hockey uniforms were unfortunately heavily padded in that area, much to Kurt’s dismay. He’d hoped to get in a little bit of discreet ogling.

As the last minute ticked away, Karofsky suddenly broke away from the masses of other skaters, the ‘29’ on his back clear as his arms worked his stick, manipulating the puck down the ice. Kurt had never seen anyone move so fast as his heavy legs thrashed, leaving his pursuers behind. The opposing goalie jittered on his skates, trying to anticipate where the large man bearing down on him was going. Dave pulled his stick back as though he were going to shoot from the right, but when the goalie went that way, Karofsky switched hands abruptly, slamming the puck into the net from the left side.

Even with his extremely limited knowledge of the game, Kurt could see that it had been a masterful fake-out.

The rest of the McKinley team gave a shout and barreled down the ice towards him as Karofsky skated away from the goal with his stick held high in the air in triumph. The buzzer to end the period sounded before anything else could happen and the players left the ice.

“Gonna hit the snack bar,” Mike said, standing up.

“I’ll go with you,” Tina volunteered quickly. “Anyone want anything?”

The rest of the Glee club gave their orders and their money. Kurt assumed it would be a while before they came back, deducing that they planned to sneak off somewhere for ‘Asian makeout’.

The Zamboni came on the ice, smoothing away the scars and gashes from the game. Kurt found himself unwillingly fascinated by the machine, taking in rough and broken slush and leaving behind smooth and gleaming ice. He tore his eyes away, and played with his iPhone, checking his Twitter feed and his Facebook page.

The teams came back on the ice and Kurt noticed that the goalies had switched sides. He presumed it was similar to football in that regard. He consoled himself that he at least had a limited knowledge of sports.

The referee dropped the puck again, and the second period began. Karofsky seemed like he was on a mission, elbowing an opposing player into the glass that surrounded the rink, and then barreling towards the other goal with the puck again. The Carmel players didn’t seem inclined to let him get away with it for a second time, as three of them were on his heels as he crossed the blue line. The rest of the McKinley players rushed to help him, crowding around the goalie and pushing at the Carmel players. McKinley passed the puck around a bit until Azimio finally took a shot, which bounced off the side support of the net. The goalie sprawled on the ice, trying to get the puck, but Karofsky had it and slapped it into the net high and to the right.

The ref whistled the goal and Dave skated towards center ice waving his hockey stick. There was a low sort of growl coming from the Carmel side of the ice.

Puck frowned. “I think we’re in the shit now.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked.

“He’s got two on them,” Finn said. “Our shots on goal are way higher than theirs. They’re getting their asses handed to them.”

“But we’re only up by two,” Kurt said.

“In hockey, that’s a lot,” Sam said. “Plus, if he gets another . . .”

“He’ll have a hat trick,” Puck finished. “Which is a big deal, and they’ll hate it.”

The tenor of the game changed after that. The opposing players didn’t seem as interested in trying to win the game as they were in slamming Dave into the glass. Karofsky couldn’t seem to move anywhere on the ice without one of the Carmel players hitting him. The refs did nothing, merely motioned with their hands for the play to continue.

“How can they do that?” Kurt hissed when yet another Carmel player sent Karofsky into the boards.

“Checking is legal,” Puck said. “What they’re doing is okay.”

“Just barely,” Finn muttered. His fair skin was flushed with anger.

Tense anxiety coiled in Kurt’s gut as the game continued. The threat to Karofsky was obvious and he couldn’t believe that the referees could ignore what was going on. Or maybe they heard the rumors too and didn’t care that the ‘fag’ was getting smashed into the walls. When Dave came off the ice for the line change, the McKinley coach talked to him intently, maybe trying to get him to calm down, maybe trying to tell him how to get through all the bodies piled on him, Kurt couldn’t tell.

What he could tell though, was that without the refs reining in their behavior, the Carmel players were getting more and more reckless. When he came back on the ice, Dave was slammed against the glass just down from their position, to the left of the penalty box, and Kurt could clearly see the anger in his face. Kurt drew a breath, knowing that Karofsky could be pushed only so far before he snapped. He may have changed the focus of his anger, but as he’d admitted to Kurt months before, that untrammeled rage still existed.

It didn’t take long. The next play, one of the Carmel squad hooked his stick between Dave’s legs while he was taking the puck down the ice. Dave fell flat on his face but came up swinging, pulling his gloves off and flinging them down on the ice. He got in one good punch before the opposing player brought his stick up in a vicious move and slashed across Dave’s eyes with it.

Kurt gave an involuntary cry as blood bloomed over Karofsky’s face, spilling over his cheek. Beside him, Puck cursed continually, trying to get out of his seat, but Finn held him down. The girls seemed stricken with horror, but Quinn kept her head, holding her phone up and clicking continually.

“What are you doing?” Mercedes asked.

“Evidence,” Quinn replied grimly.

The bloody wound hadn’t stopped Karofsky and he still tried to pummel the other player. The rest of the McKinley bench poured onto the ice even as the Carmel players skated towards the combatants. The referees waded into the melee, trying to separate the two boys. The coaches skidded across the ice, sliding in their street shoes and waving their arms.

The adults finally separated the players, pushing everyone aside until it was only Karofsky and the original Carmel player standing in the midst of trampled and bloody ice. Dave’s chest was heaving and his ferocious expression hadn’t subsided.

The refs skated to the scoring table, followed by the McKinley coaches. Head Coach Stewart shouted angrily about the refs letting the Carmel players go after Karofsky and that he didn’t deserve a penalty.

“The kid should be ejected,” Coach Stewart protested. “He went after my guy on purpose.”

The head referee didn’t seem moved, merely said, “Five for fighting,” to the scorers.

Dave entered the penalty box with a slam of the door and then slumped on the bench. The scorekeeper sent a medic into the box to tend to Dave’s face. Kurt watched anxiously as the man cleaned Dave’s face until he could clearly see that the stick had missed Karofsky’s eyes. There was a long gash above his left eye that continued to ooze blood, but the medic finally got the bleeding stopped as the period wound down.

Beside him, Puck was trembling with rage. Both Sam and Finn looked like they’d like to get on the ice, and the girls all looked horrified.

“You were right to be concerned,” Artie said finally, patting Puck’s shoulder. The gesture seemed to calm him down a little.

“We move before the game ends,” Puck ordered. “We need to be in the hallway outside the locker rooms before they get off the ice.”

No one argued with him, and Kurt appreciated that Puck kept his ‘I told you so’ to himself.

Karofsky still had a minute and twenty seconds of his penalty to serve when the third period started, but as soon as the time ran out, he was out of the box and down the ice. He played like a madman, seeming to completely ignore the other players, bulling his way through the Carmel line like it wasn’t even there. The Carmel goalie crouched against his net nervously, tapping his stick on the ice.

The line change occurred before Karofsky could score again. Kurt watched him across the ice, sitting on the player’s bench. Dave followed the play intently, softly banging his stick on the floor as though he were warning the other team of the coming battle. Coach Stewart looked him anxiously as though he wasn’t exactly sure what Karofsky would do when he got back on the ice. Kurt had no idea either, but one thing he was sure of . . . he couldn’t bear to see any more bloodshed that day. The fact that it had happened at all chilled him to the bone. Much as he’d hated the things that Karofsky had done to him when the other boy was still in denial, Kurt would never wish a bashing on anyone.

When the line changed again, Dave roared back onto the ice, his face grim. Azimio skated with him, the two of them working in tandem to steal the puck from the opposing team. Dave had lost all interest in playing with any finesse, but Kurt couldn’t look away from him . . . the man was playing with a mixture of grace and brutality that caught him by the throat and wouldn’t release him. The primitive side of Kurt couldn’t help responding to Karofsky, one way or the other. His lizard brain wasn’t afraid of the hockey player anymore, but his instincts of another sort where thrumming.

Karofsky and Azimio worked the puck around the opposing net, seemingly in complete unity. The Carmel goalie grew increasingly unsettled, whipping his head around in his heavy face covering, trying to see what they were doing, his composure torn down by their game of cat and mouse.

When Dave finally drove the puck into the net, it seemed almost an afterthought and no one except he and the referee realized what happened until Dave raised his stick, and the ref blew his whistle.

Puck and Finn high-fived each other, grinning like maniacs.

“He got it!” Sam exclaimed.

“Fuck, he’s good,” Puck agreed.

“We should go,” Artie pointed out.

“Yeah, this game is pretty much over anyway,” Finn said.

They got Artie back into the aisle and made their way into the depths of the Lima Civic Center where the locker rooms where located. The underbelly of the arena was a dank and dark place, and Kurt could well imagine the sort of misdeeds occurring here that Puck seemed anxious to prevent. After seeing what happened in the game, Kurt was convinced that Puck’s instincts were entirely correct. Even Santana had lost her bitch-face, looking as worried as he had ever seen her.

The noises from the ice above them faded away, but none of the members of the glee club seemed inclined to talk. Kurt thought that they were possibly the most ill equipped set of bodyguards in history. He was afraid that all they would manage to do would be to act as witnesses for whatever the Carmel team had planned for Karofsky, and that they wouldn’t be able to prevent any of it.

The low hum of voices eventually came from the locker room, so Kurt assumed that the team was in there. Soon they came trickling out, boys that Kurt vaguely recognized from dumpster tosses and other indignities. Azimio came out, looked over the waiting glee club with an irritated expression, and then shook his head, turning away to follow the others back to the buses.

Karofsky finally exited the locker room, dragging a wheeled hockey bag that looked like it was big enough to hide a body in. He looked exhausted, but somehow a gleam of triumph lit his eyes. Sam had explained the ‘hat trick’ thing to Kurt, so he knew that the game meant a lot to Dave. Hopefully the college scouts in the audience had been as impressed.

Dave stopped short when he saw the massed members of the Glee club waiting for him, amusement and irritation chasing across his face.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Your fan club,” Puck said. “Just came by to see our favorite ball buster.”

Dave snorted. “Whatever, Puckerman.”

Kurt wondered if Puck were trying to protect Dave’s feelings – it would hurt to know that his peers in the hockey world were so disgusted with him. But then Karofsky turned his head and Kurt could see the damage to the left side of his face.

“What in the name of Beyoncé did you think you were doing?” Kurt couldn’t help the nagging tone of his voice, as he stepped forward, reaching out to touch the heavy bruise around Dave’s eye.

The skin was puffy underneath the two butterfly bandages holding the gash over his eye closed, the white strips stark against the purple and black of Dave’s skin. The idea of that much violence directed at Dave hurt Kurt’s chest, as did the thought that the hockey player could have lost an eye.

“It’s fine,” Dave said, reaching up to capture Kurt’s wrist and gently pull it away from his face.

“You should have let the refs handle it,” Kurt continued.

Dave didn’t release his wrist, holding it up in a gentle, yet firm, grasp. Kurt feared that without meaning to, Dave was pressing on one of his nerves, because little tingles spread out from where Dave’s long warm fingers where holding his arm.

“They weren’t,” Dave sighed.

“But that’s not fair!” Kurt complained.

“Not each other’s type, my ass,” Puck muttered, but Kurt ignored him.

However, Dave dropped his wrist and stooped to pick up his hockey bag. Puck stepped up beside him and Kurt walked on the other side.

“Puckerman, this seriously isn’t necessary.”

“Shut up, Karofsky,” Puck answered. “You’ve got an escort . . . deal with it.”

Dave looked around, clearly not confident in the ability of the Glee club to stop any trouble, but he didn’t make any more complaints.

As they walked up the ramp towards the ground level of the civic center, Kurt began to think that Puck was paranoid over nothing. However, the long hallway took a turn just before it would let them out into the parking lot and the Carmel team stepped out to block their path. They didn’t say anything, but several curled their hands into fists in a way that Kurt knew all too well.

Dave ignored them and started forward as though they weren’t there, which was unfortunately reminiscent of the way he’d just played the hockey game. The Carmel players moved closer together, and a low sort of muttering went through their ranks.

Finn and Sam stepped up beside them and Kurt could feel the tension radiating from the other boys. Dave seemed to realize finally that they had walked into an ambush. Kurt had plenty of experience with Karofsky on the very edge of his temper and he could practically see the heat of his anger radiating off his body.

Kurt sighed and muttered, “Stupid jocks,” under his breath, knowing that violence was going to be hard to avoid. Puck was eager for a fight, and Dave didn’t back down when that overwhelming anger was kindled.

A Carmel player spoke up. “So, _Fagofsky_ . . . you brought your fuck toy to the game? Does the whole team share him?” He reached out as though he were going to stroke Kurt’s face.

Before Kurt could react or even open his mouth to reply, Karofsky moved. He grabbed the other player by the front of his jersey and slammed him into the wall before the rest of the students could blink. The Carmel player hit the wall with a sharp crack. Dave’s normally pleasant face was contorted in a sneer of rage that he was nearly unrecognizable. Kurt knew that look, but hadn’t seen it in a long time. And he’d never seen it directed at another person in his defense. The whole thing made him feel weird.

“You,” Dave growled, “don’t touch him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even think about him.”

Karofsky punctuated each phrase with another shove, crashing the boy against the cement wall with a thudding sound. By the time he finished, the Carmel player looked dazed and wobbly. The rest of the opposing team looked a little bit sick. Dave let him go and the player leaned against the wall, hands gripping his head.

Turning around to address the rest of the Carmel players, Dave said, “I may like dick, but I can take any of you pussies without breaking a sweat. You try anything with him, or anyone else from McKinley, you’ll find out what it’s like.”

The Carmel players dispersed, with grumblings, but no further threats. Two players hooked their arms around their teammate that Karofsky had slammed into the wall and helped him walk away toward their own bus.

Dave picked up his bag without another word and exited the civic center, headed towards the McKinley bus. The Glee club walked with him. Kurt felt weird, sort of lightheaded and his stomach felt trembly. He was probably just reacting badly to the violence that had just occurred. He looked at Karofsky to see if his fear of the big man had come back, but all he felt was a small warm glow with the knowledge that Dave had stood up for him and threatened the other player on Kurt’s behalf.

The Glee Club walked Karofsky all the way to the bus where Azimio and Coach Stewart stood at the doors, looking worriedly back towards the entrance. They both relaxed when they saw Dave coming. The coach took his seat on the bus but Azimio waited, giving the gleeks another searching look before following Dave onto the vehicle.

-+-+-+- 

On Monday, Azimio barreled down the hall, shouting, “Hummel!”

Kurt pressed himself against the lockers, convinced that he was in for a beat down for something or other. Probably going to finally get the shit knocked out of him for somehow ‘turning’ Karofsky.

“I want to talk to you, Hummel,” Azimio growled.

“About what?” Kurt asked cautiously.

He flinched when Azimio raised his hand and gestured to one of the side halls that led to the science wing.

“What the fuck, Hummel. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kurt stood his ground. “You haven’t explained yet.”

“My boy, okay?”

Presuming that he meant Karofsky and wondering what was going on now, Kurt nodded and followed him to the quiet hallway.

“Go on.”

“Pay attention, Hummel. This is me warning you off hurting him.”

“Much as I feel like I’m missing part of this conversation, I’m going to take a wild guess and suppose that you’re talking about Dave Karofsky.”

Azimio stared at him. “Duh.”

“He’s hardly a frail flower. I think he’s safe.”

“Yeah, and you weren’t shy about telling him that, were you?” Azimio snarled. “Don’t play with him.”

Kurt gradually began to get an idea of what the hockey player was worried about. “I didn’t . . . I’m not. He’s not . . .”

“Your type, I know. Don’t hurt him any more. Don’t act like you care about him.”

Lingering guilt over his long-ago words to Dave in the locker room made Kurt snap back, “Like you abandoned him Saturday when he needed back up!”

“Did he?” Azimio replied cooly. “I didn’t notice.”

“Are you afraid of him perving on you or something?”

Azimio snorted. “No. I’m not his type.”

Kurt couldn’t help be curious what Dave’s type was since he had pretty much implied that he’d had sex with more than one boy while he was in Cincinnati. Kurt shook off the mental picture of what Karofsky might look like when he with someone he felt passionate about.

“Then why leave him hanging? Because even I could see that those Carmel players had it in for him.”

“I don’t know what he needs anymore.”

“He needs his friends,” Kurt said. “He’s always going to need that.”

He still didn’t know where Azimio and Karofsky stood with each other after the revelation on Dave’s sexuality. They seemed a close as ever, but Kurt more than anyone knew how a person could maintain a façade of normality even when his whole world was collapsing. Karofsky was equally as adept at the act as Kurt was, no doubt.

“We’ve been friends since the very first day of kindergarten,” Azimio said, sadness in his tone. “Davey never saw my color or my size. He just accepted me.”

“Then it’s time you returned the favor,” Kurt retorted.

“But now he’s gone someplace I don’t understand.”

“He hasn’t _gone_ anywhere,” Kurt said tiredly. “He’s still the same person he always was. He’s not going to suddenly like fashion and show tunes just because he’s finally discovered what was there all along.”

“What do I do?” Azimio asked. “How can I help him?”

“Just respect him. Treat him like you’d want to be. Would you be upset if he called someone a nigger around you?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Then don’t call people faggots around him. Things like that.”

“All right.” Then he raised his fist again, causing Kurt to back away. “Don’t fuck him over.”

“Fine,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes.

Azimio departed to do whatever jocks slash bullies do with their free time and Kurt wandered towards class. He realized that he was behind Karofsky, so he quietly moved into the big jock’s slipstream as the other boy made his way through the crowded halls. Karofsky walked differently than he used to . . . shoulders straight and no longer slumped, his head up. He was probably daring anyone to mess with him, but the change appealed to Kurt and he found his stomach doing another of those odd rolls.

Making a sudden decision, Kurt lengthened his stride until he drew even with the taller boy. “Hi,” Kurt said cheerfully.

Dave glanced at him, a little surprised. “Hey.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Uh, math. Calculus.”

“Me too!” Kurt exclaimed. “I have O’Neill.”

“Pritchard,” Dave said, still looking at Kurt like he’d grown another head.

“You’re taking AP Calculus?” Kurt questioned.

Dave blushed, a charming shade on his complexion, Kurt decided. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I like math.”

“Mrs. O’Neill is a sadistic bitch,” Kurt offered.

Karofsky laughed a little at that. “Pritchard too. I guess it’s a job requirement.”

Kurt smiled at him, but they had reached their respective classrooms, so he ducked inside and found his seat. He was amazed that he and Karofsky managed a friendly conversation that wasn’t about some dire and dramatic subject. Kurt decided that he liked it.

When the period was over, he looked for Dave but didn’t see him. They didn’t cross paths again until the afternoon when Kurt was getting ready for Glee and Karofsky was headed for athletics. Kurt flipped a little wave at the jock, and Dave returned it, although his face creased in puzzlement.

Kurt wondered at his own actions as he walked to Glee. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling, but he felt like there was some sort of thread connecting him to Dave and he couldn’t escape the tug of it, pulling him forward.

Thus Kurt entered probably the most awkward phase of his life. It was like his embarrassing crush on Finn, except many times worse.

He made excuses to bump into Dave in the hallways. He started researching hockey and hockey players, just to find conversational openings. He asked Dave what music he liked and then tried to sing some of the songs. Kurt knew he was being crazy and stalkery, but he couldn’t help himself. Dave tolerated it with good grace and never called Kurt on his deranged behavior, but neither did he do anything to respond to it.

“Did you know that USA Hockey has a Brendan Burke internship?” Kurt asked one day.

“What’s that?” Dave asked.

“A sort of job, I think. At their headquarters in Colorado. Brendan Burke was . . .”

“I know who he was,” Karofsky cut in. “He was in school here in Ohio when he died.”

“Well, he appears to have woken up the hockey world to its homophobia. Things are changing. Not everyone is like Carmel.”

“Are you trying to comfort me again?”

Kurt blushed, because that wasn’t what he was doing. He could admit that to himself that he was trying to impress the object of his crush. Not that he would tell Dave that. Although he couldn’t decide whether it was better for Dave to think he was being altruistic or if he was trying in his rather lame way to get the other boy’s attention.

“Is it working?” Kurt asked finally.

“I’m not depressed, Kurt,” Dave said. “I’m really okay, I promise. You don’t have to watch over me.”

“Oh.”

“I mean – you can if you want to. It’s nice . . . having someone . . .”

The boy stumbled to a halt, evidently not willing to complete the thought. Kurt sighed, realizing that his curiosity wasn’t going to be answered any time soon. He consoled himself with the thought that he was doing his best to be friends with Karofsky, so he should get karma points for being a good person.

Kurt relaxed a little bit after that, although he couldn’t stop himself from trying to spend time with the jock. The tug he felt in his stomach that pulled him towards Karofsky didn’t disappear, but it became more bearable. Kurt also discovered that Dave was pretty tolerant of Kurt and his moods, and didn’t seem bothered when Kurt was feeling snippy and sarcastic. For his part, Kurt took pains to avoid making Dave the target of his sometimes brutal wit.

He noticed during those days that Dave didn’t wear the letterman jacket every day anymore. On the days that he didn’t, Dave walked with an unconscious arrogance and pride. Like he didn’t need to belong to the anonymous ranks of the jocks. Kurt wanted to ask him what he was thinking on those days, but he suspected it related to how Dave was feeling about himself, so Kurt didn’t try to bring up hurtful things.

On Valentine’s Day, Kurt halfway expected to get a card from the hockey player, but instead he received the usual joke Valentines from the girls. Plus a silly text from Blaine that said, _“Roses are red, violets are blue, I found someone for me, and I hope you do too.”_

A really lame rhyme, but Kurt was happy that Blaine had finally connected with someone at college.

Towards the end of February, Kurt met Dave on the way to math and started his usual rambling monologue about whatever was on his mind at the time. Kurt wasn’t sure that Karofsky ever paid attention to anything other than the lilting sound of his voice.

“And the scarf was unbelievably gorgeous on the website. Loosely woven and shot through with silver thread. Just a touch, nothing too dramatic, but enough so that people would take a second look just to make sure it was really there. And the blue . . . a sky blue, just barely edging over into turquoise, but definitely still in the blue family. It wasn’t cheap, let me tell you. But I ordered it. Yesterday, when it got here, I was so disappointed, but it was really more of a teal, and I don’t think the greener shades look as good on me.”

“Yeah, bluer things definitely brighten your eyes and give your skin a really nice color,” Dave said when Kurt paused for breath.

All of the air seemed to have disappeared from the hallway, and Kurt wondered if he’d wandered into some sort of alternate reality where Dave Karofsky made intelligent comments about color ways.

“So . . . I guess . . . I’ll just . . . send it back?” Kurt floundered, wondering why he felt so off-balance. Dave hadn’t done any surprising in a while. Other than defending him to the opposing hockey team. And kissing him. And then threatening him. Karofsky was just too confusing for words.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Dave agreed.

“Okay, well. I’ll see you later,” Kurt said, stopping by the door to his classroom.

“Yeah,” Karofsky replied, giving Kurt his sweet smile that lit up his eyes and made Kurt’s stomach feel wobbly again.

After Glee, Kurt grabbed Mercedes, dragging her off to his SUV as she laughed and demanded to know what was going on.

“I’m having a crisis. And you need some nail care, girl. Mutual goals, so let’s go.”

Mercifully, Mercedes seemed willing to go along with her pseudo-kidnapping, putting a song on the MP3 player and singing along, nudging Kurt until he joined her. He smiled as he maneuvered the truck through the piles of slush that littered his street.

When they were safely in his room, and Mercedes was soaking her hands in some diluted tea tree extract, she finally demanded an explanation.

“Okay, crisis-boy. Talk.”

Kurt puttered with his dressing table for a few moments, picking out some nail polish shades that he wanted to try on her. She tapped her foot on the floor, a sign that she was getting annoyed with his stalling tactics. She was the only one to whom he’d told the full extent of his interactions with Karofsky, including the winking and the wedding cake topper theft. He supposed that she knew him well enough to have deduced his crush on the hockey player.

He took a deep breath, and said, “I had the oddest conversation with Karofsky today.”

Then he related the gist of their talk, and how peculiar he felt that Dave didn’t mock him for his fashion obsession and seemed to tolerate any amount of Kurt in full rant mode.

“Do you see the problem? How bizarre is that?” Kurt finished finally.

“So lets see if I got this right,” Mercedes said. “He proved that he was paying attention to your babble, offered an opinion on fashion, a correct one, no less. And paid you a compliment. All in the same sentence?”

“Uh, yes, when you put it that way.”

“Wow. That boy has some moves. I’m impressed.”

“What? Seriously, Mercedes . . . don’t you find that a little . . . odd?”

She rolled her eyes. “Boys. You are so stupid. And when you put two gay ones together, you get double the stupid.”

“No need to be insulting,” Kurt said with frost creeping into his voice.

Mercedes shook her head. “Listen, baby. How long have you wanted to crush on someone who’d crush back?”

“He’s not . . .”

“If you say he’s not your type, I will seriously cut you. Stop lying to both of us!”

Kurt chewed on his lip and stared at her. Okay, so Karofsky was big, and muscular, and evidently willing to defend Kurt. Just like Finn. Although Finn could sing. Point for him. However, Dave wasn’t kidding when he said he pulled his grades up. They were almost as good as Kurt’s. So he was a big, beefy jock, but definitely not in the ‘stupid’ category. Although, Kurt still had doubts about how long Dave would manage to keep his hair. All in all, a pleasing picture though and the mere idea of being with Dave made Kurt’s stomach do a little bit of a flip and set his nerves tingling.

“You’re right,” he conceded softly. “What do I do?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You go get your man.”

“How?” Kurt felt paralyzed by all the bad things and feelings that lay between Karofsky and him, even though they had a sort of friendship going.

Mercedes laughed. “I’ve found boys respond pretty well to the direct approach,” she said with a suggestive roll of her hips. “Anthony does anyway.”

“TMI!” Kurt screeched, holding his hands up to his ears.

She grinned at him wickedly. “You sure you don’t want me to share my extensive knowledge?”

“Positive,” Kurt responded. “Although I do have to pat myself on the back as my superior matchmaking skills come through again.”

“Too bad you can’t get your own mess together.”

Shoulders slumping, Kurt sighed. “The matchmaker has no clue how to make his own match.”

“Maybe you should . . . just offer. Let him know you’re interested.”

Kurt nodded, knowing she was right, that after everything that had happened between them, Dave had no way of knowing that Kurt had changed his mind about his attraction to the hockey player. Kurt wasn’t sure where he’d get the courage to go up to Karofsky and ask him on a date. He could just grab the jock and kiss him, because he seemed to speak that sort of language, but again, Kurt didn’t know if he had the guts to do it.

Unfortunately, Kurt had no real experience with taking a relationship out of the crush realm and onto something more satisfying. With Blaine, the Dalton student had done all the work and Kurt had found himself being wooed, courted, seduced, whatever name he cared to put on it. It had been easy, which was why Kurt couldn’t understand why being with Blaine wasn’t more satisfying than it had been. Burt must have been wrong about how relationships worked.

Dave remained stubbornly oblivious to Kurt’s attempts to flirt, treating him like just another one of his friends. Once again, Kurt couldn’t help wondering about those boys that Dave had known at his other school and what Dave’s type might be. Kurt was smart enough to realize that there was no way he could change himself, but he thought that if he knew the answer to the question of what Karofsky wanted, he might be able to avoid trying to get someone who would never be interested. Although it would hurt more with Dave than it had with Finn, because Finn had been totally unrealistic, but Dave at least liked boys too.

He consoled himself with the memory of the kiss they had shared. Kurt played the scene over and over, trying to find an answer to the puzzle of Dave’s preferences. At his lowest point, Kurt decided that Karofsky had kissed him just because he was available and not because he was actually attracted to Kurt.

He couldn’t stop himself from trying to spend time with Dave. Kurt met the jock at his locker whenever possible, walked with him, and occasionally sat down for lunch with him. Karofsky never gave any signs that he didn’t want Kurt around, and in fact, smiled and relaxed around him, showing the friendly, softer side of the angry boy he had been before. Kurt became even more entranced as their friendship deepened.

-+-+-+- 

With Spring Break a week away, the snow finally melted and the sun seemed to shine more often. Kurt felt his heart grow lighter as the days lengthened and winter lost its grip on the Midwest. Everyone seemed to feel the same with people becoming more cheerful in the hallways and the Glee kids putting their hearts into their songs. With the arrival of the daffodils and the last of the snow fading away, they had all shaken off the depression and crankiness that short days and cold nights had brought on.

Santana stood up in Glee club and said, “Okay, bitches. We’re going to kick winter’s ass on out of here. Party at my place. Saturday. Be there.”

“You going?” Mercedes whispered.

“In the face of orders from the queen of mean? Of course.” Kurt snarked. “But yes . . . it actually sounds like fun.”

The rest of the club murmured among themselves, as the kids made plans for the weekend. Kurt needed the distraction of the party. He doubted it would be just the Glee club though, since Santana had a pretty wide social network. He ignored the small hope in his heart that Karofsky would be there too.

On Saturday, Kurt pulled on tight black jeans and shoved them into a pair of soft slouchy boots of grey suede that came over his calf. On top, he put on a skintight silk wife beater in a cream color, and then topped it with a loose sweater, also made of silk, but it was roughly woven raw silk in a pure sky blue color. The two garments slid against each other and Kurt’s skin easily, making him feel sensual and desirable. The shade of blue brought out the sparkle in his eyes, but he told himself that wasn’t why he chose it. Looking in the mirror, Kurt thought that he looked like he belonged in the winter, the cool colors making him look cold and remote. He nearly changed, because that wasn’t the impression he wanted to give, but he decided that he really did look good in the outfit and so before he could over think it, he grabbed a leather jacket and went upstairs where Finn was already waiting for him.

“Have fun, boys!” Carole said, her eyes glancing over both of them with approval. “An End of Winter party sounds like a wonderful idea. Burt and I are going to dinner and movie. Don’t be too late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Finn said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Kurt gave Finn a critical once-over and decided that his stepbrother looked adequate. Finn was wearing a hunter green Henley that emphasized his excellent shoulders and a well-fitting pair of jeans. He and Rachel were gradually working through their issues and Finn had clearly dressed to impress her, although Kurt privately thought it was a wasted effort considering Rachel’s horrid ideas about fashion.

Clicking the remote, Kurt unlocked the Navigator and they headed towards Santana’s house. The party was already going by the time they arrived, with the sound system blaring out dance music. Finn headed towards the kitchen while Kurt shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it carefully in Santana’s coat closet rather than dumping it with the others heaped on one of the chairs. The furniture in the den had been pushed back to the walls to make room for dancing. Brittany was already in the middle of the floor, showing off her moves while Artie did wheelies around her. Some of the jocks and Cheerios moved together, mainly doing the normal stiff ‘straight white’ dancing.

As he turned around, someone yelled, “Kurt!”

Rachel accosted him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly.

“Good evening, Rachel,” Kurt said, squirming a little and trying to get his breath. He wondered what had brought on her clinginess.

“Dance with me?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he agreed.

As they walked towards the center of the room, Kurt looked around carefully. He nodded to a few of the jocks. Azimio was there, but Kurt didn’t see Karofsky. Puck and Quinn stood together, not touching each other, but somehow Kurt suspected that those same bonds that pulled him towards Dave were pulling on the two of them. Being with Lauren had taught Puck a lot about women, shockingly. Sam had given up on Quinn a few weeks before, but as far as Kurt could tell, Puck hadn’t made a move yet. That relationship could bring them both a lot of joy if they let each other be happy, Kurt decided, but they both knew how many mine fields littered the scenery around them. For once in his life, Puck seemed willing to take things slowly and cautiously.

Kurt resolved to forget about all their teen-aged relationship dramas for one night and just enjoy himself. He raised his arms and let the music take him as he and Rachel moved together easily. He liked dancing with her . . . she was the perfect size for more acrobatic maneuvers and her endless ballet training made her nimble and lithe. They looked good together. And if both of them had boys they were trying to impress . . . so much the better.

The music switched over from a dance beat to Korn’s ‘Twisted Transistor’. Kurt pulled Rachel back against him, and they ground their pelvises together. The heavy beat throbbed through Kurt’s body as he and Rachel moved. If he liked girls, he’d be in heaven, but as it was, the contact was enough to get him half hard. As they turned, he caught sight of Finn, watching them with a sort of puzzled anger. Kurt would tell his stepbrother that Rachel was perfectly safe with him, but he decided it was good for Finn to feel a little insecure. Rachel leaned her head back against Kurt’s shoulder, and he spread his hand over her belly.

Behind him, someone else joined their dance, another girl, wrapping her arms around both of them. From her height and her moves, Kurt guessed it was Brittany. Turning his head slightly to confirm his guess, he encountered Brittany’s happy smile. She winked at him and pressed a kiss to his neck.

People were watching them, and Kurt supposed that he was in the middle of every straight teen-aged boy’s biggest fantasy . . . to have two girls writhing against him. He closed his eyes and forgot about their audience, losing himself in the feel of the music and the two warm bodies surrounding him. He dreamed that instead of Brittany holding him, it was someone with a larger body and harder muscles. Kurt hadn’t had sex since Blaine at Christmas and he really wanted to get off with someone else instead of his own hands, so he built the fantasy easily.

After nearly an hour of solid dancing, grinding his hips between Brittany and Rachel, Kurt was quite sweaty and flushed. His erection hadn’t gone down, and he knew Rachel could feel it against her. He needed a break though, so he pulled away from the girls, tugging on Rachel’s arm and then shoving her in the direction of Finn. A quick look around revealed no sign of Dave, and Kurt ruthlessly quashed his disappointment, still determined to enjoy himself.

Going to the kitchen, Kurt poured himself a cup of lemon-lime soda, heavy on the ice. He slipped out the back door leading out onto the extensive covered deck that led to Santana’s back yard. The air was still chilly as he moved into the early spring night. It felt good on Kurt’s heated skin though. As he walked towards the railing to look over the yard, someone stirred in the shadows at the end of the deck.

Kurt jumped, taken by surprise as he had thought he was alone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kurt,” Karofsky said.

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone was there. You startled me, Dave.”

“Sorry about that.”

Kurt wandered over to where the big man was leaning up against one of the upright posts. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“The select team had a game in Toledo this afternoon. We just got back.”

“How’d it go?”

Dave grinned, his face obviously happy even in the dim light. “Killed ‘em.”

“Awesome,” Kurt said, his smile mirroring Dave’s.

“I saw you dancing in there,” Karofsky said. “You looked good.”

“Thanks,” Kurt murmured when what he really wanted to say was, _Did you think I was sexy? Did it make you want me?_. But he kept his mouth shut, asking instead, “Are they still scouting you?”

Karofsky rubbed a hand along his heavy jaw. “Maybe, but I sent a letter of intention to Pitt. I’ll be there in the fall.”

“Pitt? That’s pretty big time. Out of Ohio anyway.”

“Yeah, and it’s right in the Penguins’ backyard. I wouldn’t mind playing for Mario Lemieux one bit.”

Luckily, when Kurt had been in the worst of his stalker phase, he’d researched plenty of things about hockey and could follow Dave’s conversation easily. “Would you leave before you went all four years if they talked about drafting you?”

“Versus a chance to play in the NHL? Hell, yeah. College will always be there.”

Well aware that many kids said those exact words when the pros came calling but never went back, nevertheless, Kurt didn’t contradict him. Dave wasn’t stupid.

“What about you?” Dave asked.

“I have a few choices, but I think I’m going to accept the University of Kentucky. I got letters from a few schools in Ohio, but I want to go further south. Hopefully it will be warmer.”

“What’s your major?”

“Architecture.”

“Suits you,” Dave said.

“What about you?”

“Don’t know. Probably just go General Arts and Sciences until I figure something out.”

The cold finally penetrated Kurt then, chilling the sweat that coated his skin. He gave a little shiver, knowing that he should go back inside, but not wanting to leave Dave. The night seemed to have cast a blanket of intimacy over them and Kurt feared what would happen if he broke it. He didn’t want to lose the moment.

“Cold?” Karofsky asked, his voice a soft whisper in the night.

“A little,” Kurt answered with his voice shaking slightly in an attempt to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Here,” Dave said, taking off his own jacket, not the letterman jacket, but something made of heavy suede with shearling accents. It looked like a rancher’s coat or something a cowboy would wear. Kurt liked it.

He held it out and Kurt stepped forward into the warmth of the sheepskin lining. Dave wrapped it around Kurt’s shoulders and his hands lingered for a moment on Kurt’s arms before falling away. Kurt knew he should step back out of Dave’s personal space . . . that he should respect the boundaries that Dave drew. But his erection had leaped back into life when he heard Dave’s voice and hadn’t subsided. His hormones drove him to take reckless chances. So Kurt stayed where he was, leaning towards Dave a little.

“Thanks,” he said and was shocked at how thick his voice was. He snuggled into the coat, unconsciously breathing in the smell of Dave’s cologne that lingered in the fibers.

The clouds shifted a little, making the night brighter. Kurt could see that Dave was wearing a Henley, just like Finn, but his was made of some thin material that clung to his chest, revealing the planes of muscle and two nipples just crinkling in the cold air.

Knowing it was a bad idea, but unable to stop himself, Kurt put his hands out, just resting his fingers against the button placket of Dave’s soft shirt. He didn’t dare go any farther to perhaps pluck at the enticing little buds on either side of Dave’s chest, although the temptation was difficult to resist. The big jock radiated warmth into Kurt’s fingertips and his hands nearly ached with the need to touch him.

He looked up, trying to find answers in Dave’s face, but the shadows hid his expression. He wasn’t frowning, but his brows were pulled together over fathomless eyes. Kurt shifted his weight, putting himself just that much closer.

Dave moved after a long moment, bringing his hands up to clutch the sides of Kurt’s waist, the touch light, not enough to hold Kurt if he wanted to move. Kurt took a shuddery breath, his head starting to spin at the feel of Dave’s hands _finally_ where he wanted them. Kurt slid his hands up to rest on Dave’s shoulders and Dave responded by tightening his grip on Kurt’s waist.

“Fancy . . . ,” he breathed.

“Yes,” Kurt said, responding to the nickname that had once been thrown his way in disgust, but now sounded like a prayer.

“Say yes . . . please.”

“Yes, please.”

Dave’s mouth covered his, lips hard and demanding and just as full of need as they had been the first time he’d kissed Kurt. One arm tightened around Kurt’s waist while the other came up to tilt Kurt’s face at just the perfect angle. At the feel of that large hand on his bare skin the way he’d been fantasizing about for months, Kurt gave a tiny whimper in the back of throat and pressed himself closer.

Taking the move as an invitation, Dave opened his mouth, pushing his tongue forward until Kurt let him in. Feeling overwhelmed and out of control, Kurt sucked eagerly on the warm muscle invading his mouth. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything except cling to Dave and hope he never stopped their kiss. Kurt curled into the heat of Dave’s body, soaking in the warmth and solid feel of him.

They finally pulled their lips apart, and Dave stayed in place, his harsh breaths ghosting across Kurt’s mouth. Kurt wrapped his arms around Dave’s shoulders, not entirely sure that his legs would support him if he stepped back.

Dave shifted his grip until his arm was around Kurt’s back, supporting him, while the other one traveled slowly down Kurt’s front to rest on the bulge currently distorting Kurt’s jeans. Kurt bucked into the hand, and met Dave’s gaze, not afraid to let Karofsky see how much the contact affected him, even though the darkness shielded him to some extent.

“Fuck,” Dave whispered as his lips met Kurt’s again.

He moved his hand rhythmically, pressing against Kurt’s dick in a motion that was quickly driving Kurt to the brink. Dave’s mouth muffled Kurt’s cries and Kurt squirmed, trying to escape the grip on his groin, to get himself some breathing space, to put the brakes on the unbearable pleasure. But Dave didn’t relent, pushing Kurt forward until he had no choice but to scream out his pleasure as he spilled himself in his jeans. Dave held him close while he bucked and jerked in the bigger boy’s arms. Kurt panted while Dave soothed him with little kisses and licks to his swollen lips. Kurt shuddered as he finally came down from his orgasm.

“You okay?” Dave asked.

“Yeah . . . just . . . sorry.”

“For what?”

“Going off so fast like that.” Kurt still felt as though he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

“It was hot,” Dave said with a smug grin. “Seeing you so out of control. Knowing I caused it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kurt teased, feeling a little more like himself again as his breathing calmed.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s just see how much heat I can cause you.”

Tension eased out of the other boy, and he subtly relaxed, signaling that Kurt could do whatever he wanted. Kurt took advantage of it, fingers gripping the small peaked nipples that had been taunting him. He rubbed the bits of skin between his fingers, watching with satisfaction as Dave put his head back and gasped.

Kurt knew what he wanted to try . . . something he never thought he would want to do. Contrary to what he would have guessed a year ago, he felt utterly safe with Dave, knowing he could do things he never wanted before and it would be okay.

He slid to his knees, nuzzling into the slippery material of Dave’s shirt covering his stomach. Dave reached down and cupped his face.

“Kurt . . . you don’t have to.”

“I want to though,” Kurt said. “Let me? Please?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Dave leaned back against the pillar, widening his stance to brace himself. Kurt pushed the Henley up and ducked his head underneath. He opened the button of Dave’s jeans and then pushed the zipper down. Dave’s stomach was lightly furred and the hair got heavier as it went towards his crotch. Kurt rubbed his nose and lips against Dave’s stomach, feeling the solid muscle under sleek skin. While his abs weren’t ripped up like Puck’s, but heavy with muscle instead, by no means could he be considered fat or even chubby. Kurt closed his eyes has guilt for his hurtful words washed over him. Dave may have used his hands to inflict damage, but Kurt knew that the agony of words could last a lot longer than physical bruises did.

Kurt stuck his tongue out, tracing the word ‘sorry’ on the warm skin between Dave’s navel and his groin. He kissed the area, sampling Dave’s taste and the feel of his body. Then he blew a soft breath of air over his apology. Dave groaned and his muscles quivered, igniting the heat inside Kurt again.

He shoved Dave’s boxers down just enough to get his cock out and then he hesitated. Dave was definitely proportional and Kurt wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the large penis confronting him. He ducked his head down, licking and sucking what he could reach. He wrapped his lips around the tip, giving a few experimental sucks. Above him, Dave groaned something incomprehensible; sounding like he’d lost the power of speech. Kurt decided that he must be on the right track. He moved the underwear away so he could get his hands on Dave’s shaft.

He couldn’t control his saliva and was making quite a mess, but Dave didn’t seem to care, if the noises coming out of his mouth where any indication.

“Oh, fuck, yeah.”

He patted Kurt’s hair, his hands noticeably trembling. “Feels so good, Kurt. You’re amazing.”

Kurt flushed at the praise, and worked the stiff flesh in his mouth more diligently. Dave’s cock swelled even more, becoming harder. His voice lost coherency, turning into a series of grunts. His hips rocked a little, but not enough to cause Kurt to gag. He pushed himself down onto the dick as far as he could. He was a little disappointed with himself that he couldn’t take more of it in his mouth. He supposed that with more practice, he would get better at it.

“Fuck, gonna come.”

Bobbing his head even faster, Kurt refused to let go. He was going to have the full experience, up to and including swallowing. He gripped the shaft more firmly, feeling the surge of come flooding through the organ. Dave’s release hit the back of Kurt’s throat with surprising force. Kurt choked and sputtered, losing some of the load in his mouth, and dripping the remnants all over Dave’s groin. He swallowed as much as he could, not minding the taste of it. Dave tasted an odd mixture of salty and bitter, but Kurt decided he was okay with Dave’s flavor.

When Dave’s cock stopped convulsing, Kurt pulled back and gave the sated shaft one last little kiss. He tucked Dave back into his boxers and tried to get his zipper up, but the angle was awkward. Dave reached down and helped him.

Kurt stayed on his knees, thinking a little about the irrevocable step that he’d just taken and how it felt to have part of someone else inside him. He wondered how much more intense it might be to allow another man to fuck him, how much more intimate that would be. His father had been right . . . it was a big deal, a momentous act, and he’d never be the same again. He felt a brief moment of lingering fear that he had given away this part of himself to Dave Karofsky of all people.

But Dave’s big gentle hands rubbed his shoulders in soothing circles and Kurt shuddered out a sigh of relief. It would be okay.

Dave hooked his hands under Kurt’s armpits, drawing him to his feet. He tilted Kurt’s head up and took his mouth again, tongue probing for his own taste. Kurt moaned, feeling his desires stirring back to life. But his jeans had become cold and clammy with his release filling up his underwear. Dave wasn’t in much better condition with Kurt’s slobber and portions of his come spattered around.

“Mmm,” Kurt purred into Dave’s mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Uh, yeah. Where?”

Kurt rested his head against Dave’s for a moment.

“Back to my house. My parents are out for a while. I can get you in and we can get cleaned up.” He shifted uncomfortably. “These jeans are a bit tight and are starting to chafe with the wet. I need a shower.”

“Me too. Did you drive?”

“Yes.”

Kurt recalled that the keys were in his jeans, not in his jacket pocket and smiled. He didn’t want to walk back through the crowds of their friends with Dave in tow. Too many things could go wrong, and he wasn’t quite sure where they stood yet. His instincts told him to get Dave someplace where they could be alone and undisturbed. He pulled the keys out and grabbed Dave’s hand, tugging him down the steps that led to the yard. They found the back gate and slipped through it quietly. Kurt didn’t drop Dave’s hand as he slipped across the street to the Navigator. He spared a brief thought for Finn, but then decided that his stepbrother could find a ride home without much trouble.

He drove carefully down the streets, aware that Dave was watching him in the dim lights from the dashboard. The knowledge gave him a pleasurably squirmy feel. He wished Dave would touch him again, but on the other hand, Kurt was afraid that any more contact might wreck his concentration.

Parking in the driveway, Kurt saw that the house was dark except for the porch light. He was glad he didn’t have to explain Karofsky’s presence to his father just yet. He hit the button to open the garage door and then motioned for the big jock to follow him through the lit up garage and into the kitchen. He could sense the questions flocking on Dave’s lips, but didn’t give him a chance to say anything, striding towards the door to the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs, Kurt flicked on the switch that turned on the lamps. He didn’t want the overhead lights, but he wanted to see the man who had so unexpectedly turned into a lover. The warm glow of the lamps seemed to be a good compromise. Kurt thought about candles, but decided they would be a bit much at the moment.

“My room,” Kurt said.

Dave looked around and Kurt waited for something hurtful or sarcastic. Kurt had kept some of the harem décor even after Finn’s criticism because he thought the space needed a little warmth. Now he worried that Dave would find it too gay or girly or something. Then Kurt wanted to slap himself for caring what Dave thought.

“All of this?” Dave asked.

“Yes, it’s been mine for years. There was a plan for Finn and I to share, but luckily our parents decided for the sake of family harmony that it would be better for Finn to have his own room. My dad built an extension for him and he’s quite happy there.”

Kurt shut up as Dave stared at him, probably wondering why he was babbling about Finn at a time like the present.

“It’s really cool,” Dave said.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Kurt pulled himself together and walked over to the door to the bathroom. “There’s some towels in that cabinet. You can shower here. I’ll dump your clothes in the washer and then use the upstairs shower.”

“Thanks.”

“And, I’ll . . . uh, see if I can find some sweats of Finn’s.” Kurt didn’t elaborate, but he knew exactly how much of a mess was in Dave’s jeans and presumed the other boy wouldn’t want to put them back on until they had gone through the wash. He was tempted to make Dave sit around naked, but decided they weren’t quite there yet.

“That’d be great.”

“Okay, then.”

Kurt resisted the urge to explain how the shower worked to the other boy. Instead he fled up the stairs to pull himself together a little bit, wondering why he suddenly felt so awkward. He leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to sort out his thoughts.

He wasn’t afraid that Dave would push him into doing anything he didn’t want to. After weeks of observing the other boy and getting to know him, Kurt was sure of that. If his sexual orientation hadn’t caused Dave so many traumas, Kurt was certain that the other boy would never have made some of the choices that he previously. Kurt knew beyond any doubt that he was utterly safe with Dave. The question had become whether Kurt was safe from his own urges. The encounter on the deck had just proven to him that under the right circumstances, Kurt was completely capable of giving into overwhelming lust and being as a big a slut as anyone else.

Under his feet, Kurt heard the water in his bathroom go on and he shook himself out of his musings. He ducked into Finn’s bathroom and turned the water on to let it get hot, before going into his stepbrother’s room to find some fresh clothes for Dave. The hockey player was nearly as tall as Finn, but much more solidly built. Kurt finally settled on a worn pair of sweats with a drawstring waist and faded t-shirt.

Back in the bathroom, Kurt pulled off his filthy jeans with relief, wincing as the dried come in his boxer-briefs tugged at his pubic hair. In the shower, Kurt washed himself briefly, his own hand enough to bring his simmering arousal back to the surface. He tried to push it way, but the image of Dave waiting for him in his own bedroom was enough to speed him through the ritual that he usually took slowly.

When Kurt stepped out of the shower, he mentally cursed himself when he realized that he’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes for himself. Wrapping one towel around his waist and another around his shoulders, Kurt grabbed the clothes for Dave and scurried back to the basement. The water in his bathroom was still going, so he quickly dropped the towels on the floor and pulled on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt.

Then he didn’t know what to do while he waited. Kurt couldn’t help imagining what Dave looked like – water sluicing over his big body, soapy trails meandering through his body hair. More than anything, he wanted to get into the shower with the hockey player, but uncertainty kept him pacing around his room.

The water shut off and Kurt stood by his bed, heart feeling like it would burst out of his chest, waiting for Dave to emerge.

The bathroom door opened and Dave walked out, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Kurt stared – at the broad chest, the muscular arms, the damp treasure trail. The towel concealed most of Dave’s thighs, but there was no hiding bulky strength of them as he moved.

Kurt gasped at the sight of him, and the erection that had faded due to his nervousness sprung back into full life. He sat down on the bed to hide his embarrassing reaction, putting his hand over his mouth to keep the babble that wanted to escape from getting out.

“Oh, my Gaga,” he said before he could stop himself.

Dave took one look at his face, and then flushed a dull red, ducking his head. He seemed to collapse on himself, his large frame unaccountably shrinking. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

He turned his head away but not before Kurt got a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes.

“Sorry for what?” Kurt asked in bewilderment.

“I’ll just . . . go,” he answered. “Won’t bother you any more, I promise.”

“No, you can’t!” Kurt cried in alarm.

Dave brought his head up, brow crinkled in a frown. Kurt missed seeing his smile and wondered how he’d gotten so addicted to it. He wanted to stand up and wrap his arms around Dave, but he was afraid to move for fear of utterly losing what little self-restraint he had left.

“I don’t understand,” Dave said.

Kurt laughed, feeling a little hysterical. “I don’t either. Madonna, I never thought it would be you. But you’re the one.”

“The one what?”

Feeling the babble coming on and knowing there was no way to stop it, Kurt just let it go. “The one I won’t be able to resist. Seeing you . . . like that. Half naked in my bedroom. I thought I was above it all, thought I could control myself. But I can’t. I’m just a hormone-driven teenager like everyone else. Oh my god, I want you so bad I can’t see straight. I want to do everything with you. I’ll beg if I have to . . . just to get you to touch me.”

Kurt stopped talking abruptly, afraid he’d scared the other boy off, but Dave’s smile had returned. His posture straightened and his shoulders went back.

“I see,” the jock said. “I thought . . . the look on your face . . . it was the same you had . . . that day.”

“Oh. Not that, not at all.”

Suddenly understanding Dave’s reaction, Kurt swallowed, grabbing his courage from somewhere. He uncoiled his arms and leaned back on his hands, giving Dave a full view of his reaction to Dave’s state by the tenting of his sleep pants.

Dave’s expressive eyebrows flew up. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Kurt replied, heat suffusing his face. Dave stood where he had stopped upon coming out of the bathroom, as though he were afraid to move closer.

“Show me, please?” Kurt asked, trying to keep his voice level, for while he had just admitted he wasn’t too proud to beg, he wasn’t quite ready to start.

“Uh, what?”

“Drop the towel,” Kurt whispered.

With a nod, Dave reached for the folded terry cloth, loosening it and letting it fall away. Kurt’s mouth went dry. Dave’s dick filled and rose while Kurt watched. Looking at it, Kurt wondered if he’d ever be able to get all of it in his mouth. No matter . . . he intended to try his best. The thick cock rose out of heavy nest of hair that curled tightly around its base, and pointed towards Kurt. Dave held his position, keeping his hands at his sides while he let Kurt look his fill.

Dizziness swarmed through Kurt’s head. With trembling hands, he pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side. Glancing up at Dave, he saw that the hockey player hadn’t moved, but his gaze focused on Kurt with a searing intensity . . . similar in some ways to the look that had once frightened him, but in this context created an entirely different reaction in Kurt. The very heat of it bolstered Kurt’s confidence and he loosened the ties to his pants. Kurt slid up the bed towards the pillows, at the same time leaving his sleep pants behind. Dave made an inarticulate noise, but to Kurt’s immense frustration, he stayed put. The hockey player’s restraint worried Kurt and made him wonder if he’d made a huge and utterly humiliating mistake.

Forcing himself to relax, Kurt reclined against the pillows. He spread himself out, parting his thighs and letting his arms fall open, hoping he looked inviting enough that Dave would _do_ something, because Kurt had run out of courage.

But Dave didn’t disappoint him. “Kurt,” he groaned, stepping forward, getting on his knees on the bed and crawling up Kurt’s body.

Kurt reached up and wrapped his hands around Dave’s neck, dragging him down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Desire ebbed and surged through Kurt, rising back up to an unbearable level and making him feel crazy.

“You’re never gonna hafta beg,” Dave murmured against his ear, a low rumble of sound that went straight to Kurt’s groin and convulsed the muscles in his back so that he was pressing against Dave’s heavy torso.

“Hands . . . on me,” Kurt demanded.

He felt Dave’s smile against his neck. “Aye, aye, Fancy.”

The big jock rolled them over so Kurt was sprawled over his chest. His hand cupped Kurt’s ass, grinding him down against his groin while the other one skated up his spine, gripping Kurt’s neck and steering him into another kiss. Kurt lost himself then, not able to think or talk or anything else except to _feel_ what was happening to him. Dave thrust a heavily muscled thigh between Kurt’s legs, pressing up and trapping Kurt’s balls with a truly amazing pressure.

Kurt whined and bit at the flushed skin that he could find with his mouth while his pelvis did some moves that he had never tried before and his painfully hard dick slid against Dave’s.

The big man kept touching Kurt’s skin, always moving those large warm hands over Kurt’s body, the calluses leaving tingles behind. If Kurt had thought that he had a bit of a kink for Dave’s hands, he was getting his itch thoroughly scratched. Kurt writhed, seeking more of the contact from the hockey player, more pressure on his cock, just more of everything. Under him, Dave pushed up against Kurt’s weight, his body finding a rhythm also until they moved together in an age-old dance.

Kurt watched with dazed eyes as Dave’s face wrinkled in concentration and his tongue thrust of out his mouth as a sort of counterpoint to the movement of his hips. Kurt wanted to bend down and suck on Dave’s mouth but he was so close to the edge that he couldn’t do anything but reach frantically for his orgasm.

Dave sighed out something that sounded vaguely like Kurt’s name and then wetness spattered between them, making everything slide so much better. His body bucked as tremors shook him and Kurt clung to him, even as he felt the unstoppable force gathering in his balls as he added to the slippery mess between their bodies.

When Kurt started paying attention to things again, he was snuggled against Dave’s broad chest and big hands were running soothingly up and down his back. Kurt turned his head and pressed a little kiss to the sweaty skin under his cheek, humming contentedly. After a while, Dave shifted around under him, and Kurt rolled off to the side.

“So . . . another shower?” Dave asked.

As much as Kurt would love to get back in the shower, this time accompanied by the jock, he was too tired to think of anything except sleeping, not even caring how much of a mess they had made.

“Not now,” he murmured against Dave’s skin. “Stay?”

“Okay.”

Kurt got out of bed, stumbling to the light switch and plunging the room in darkness. He grabbed his t-shirt on the way back and swiped at his torso and then Dave’s, trying to get the worst of the mess. He pulled the blankets up and shoved them around until he and Dave were comfortably settled under them. He slung a leg over Dave’s muscular thigh and curled against his warm chest. Dave’s arm came around him, pulling him close. Kurt nuzzled him a little, but he was really exhausted and sleep took him down not long after that.

-+-+-+- 

 

Waking up, Kurt found himself at the same time both pleasantly warm and cozy, and yet someone was assaulting his ears with enraged shrieks. Cracking an eye open, Kurt witnessed his father reaching for Kurt’s straightening iron from his dressing table and yelling something. “That vicious asshole isn’t going to lay a finger on my boy!”

As Burt swung the straightener towards the bed, Kurt lunged up and plastered himself over Dave, not bothering to consider whether his actions would stop his father or just make him madder.

“No, leave him alone!” Kurt demanded. “He’s mine and I plan on keeping him.”

“Oh, really?” Burt responded, lowering his weapon.

Kurt would laugh at the idea of his father defending him with a hair care device if he wasn’t so intent on keeping the boy who was in bed with him safe from bodily harm. On reflection, they probably should have put some clothes back on before they fell asleep, in order to prevent this very mishap.

Kurt felt rather than heard Dave’s chuckle and a large hand grasped his hip, causing Kurt to temporarily lose his train of thought. All he could mange was, “Yes.”

But it seemed to satisfy his father, who backed up and put the flat iron down, before spreading his hands in a gesture of peace. Burt looked more amused than anything else at that moment. “All right. I expect to see you boys upstairs in time for brunch. Thirty minutes.”

He turned and stomped up the stairs, growling grouchily at Finn that Kurt would be up soon.

Kurt slumped back against Dave’s bulky warmth. “That was scary.”

A breath of laughter huffed across his neck. “How do you think I feel? I’ve already tangled with your dad too many times.”

“It was just the once,” Kurt argued.

“One too many.” Dave pulled him in tightly, his hands drifting over Kurt’s chest and making him squirm. “So . . . Kurt . . . claiming me?”

Kurt froze. They hadn’t talked about anything, too lost in the mutual lust that they couldn’t seem to quench. He had no idea how Dave really felt about him . . . whether he wanted to have a relationship or whether he had just wanted to resolve the sexual tension that had been brewing between them for so long.

But if he never asked . . . he’d never get what he wanted. “Uh, I think . . . yes?”

“Cool,” Dave said, giving Kurt a squeeze. “We’d better get up there before your dad comes back.”

Kurt couldn’t hide his grin as he tugged his clothes on and they were laughing when they walked into the kitchen.

-+-+-+-

On Monday, Kurt parked his Navigator in his assigned Senior parking space with the sun blazing a trail of warmth across the parking lot. The air smelled like growing things.

At the door to the school, Dave waited for him and took his hand when Kurt approached. Kurt didn’t know what to expect as they walked down the halls, clearly together. Some people muttered and frowned at them, but their friends smiled. Puck high-fived both of them. Mercedes hugged him and Rachel kissed his cheek. Finn glowered at Karofsky, but shrugged helplessly at Kurt. Azimio seemed pleased, although with him, Kurt couldn’t really tell for sure.

All things considered, the day went pretty smoothly and Kurt moved through his classes with a tiny little fountain of happiness bubbling over in his heart.

After all the dust had settled, saying ‘yes’ to Dave Karofsky turned out to be the easiest thing Kurt had ever done.


End file.
